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AUTHOR: 


MOULTON 
GREEN 


RICHARD 


TITLE: 


I 


ANCIENT  COMEDY  FOR 
ENGLISH  AUDIENCES  . 


PLACE: 


CHICAGO 


DATE: 


1900 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


Master  Negative  # 


BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARnF.T 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


■^pp^ 


p««.»-"i.i|.-.|.j|.ui.    I,  nil— iWPJI 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


^oulton,  Richard  Greon,  1849-1924.         .^ 

...  Ancient  conedy  for  English  audiences,  syllf^ 
bus  o^  a  course  of  six  lecture- studios,  by  Richard 
mo.lZ^   G.  lloulton...   Chicaco,  University  of  Chicago 
M  ?6   press,  1900. 


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10  p. 


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At  head  of  title:  The  University  of  Chicago.The 
University  Extension.  The  lecturo-study  department 

no.  39,  part  1.  .'„.-,■, 

Acconpanied  by     the  author's  Book  of  illus- 
trations; ancient  ^^    conedy,  50  p.  and  his 
Book  of.illustrations'»  ancient  tragedy,  87  p. 


TECHNICAL  MICROFORM  DATA 


REDUCTION     RATIO:      '' ^ 


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HLMEDBY:    RESEARCH  PUBLICATIONS.  INC  WOODBRIDGE.  CT 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


V 


The  Ancient  Drama 


(TRAGEDY) 


\ 


CONTENTS 


STORY  OF  ORESTES  [Oresteia],  K  Trilogy  by  iEscHYLUS  -       5 

AGAMEMNON 5 

THE  SEPULCHRAL  RITES  [Choephort]     -            -  -     20 

THE  GENTLE  GODDESSES  [Eumenides\        -            -  27 

ELECTRAy  BY  Sophocles     -           -           -           -           -  -    34 

ELECTRA,  BY  Euripides           ...           -           -  42 

ALCESTISy  BY  Euripides     -           -           -           -           •  -    52 

THE  CYCLOPS,  by  Euripides  -----  72 

THE  BACCHANALS,  by  Euripides           -           -           -  -     73 

Miscellaneous  Passages  -          -           ...          -  79 


REFERENCES 


In  the  case  of  jEschylus  and  Sophocles  the  numbering  of  lines 
agrees  with  that  in  the  translations  of  Plumptre  and  in  the  original. 
In  the  plays  from  Euripides  the  numbering  is  that  of  the  lines  in  the 
cheap  translation  (Routledges  Universal  Library), 


\ 


A  CONDENSATION  OF  THE  TRILOGY 

STORY    OF   ORESTES 

[ORESTEIA] 

BEING  THE  ONLY  GREEK  TRILOGY,  OR  THREE-PLAY  DRAMA, 
WHICH  HAS  COME  DOWN  TO  US  COMPLETE 

CONSISTING    or 

Morning  Play: 
AGAMEMNON 

Midday  Play: 
THE   SEPULCHRAL    RITES 

[Choephori^ 

Afternoon  Play: 
THE   GENTLE   GODDESSES 

[Eumenides^ 

Composed  by  iESCHYLUS,  and  Brought  on  the  Stage  at  Athens 

AT  the  Festival  of  the  'Greater  Dionysia,'  in  March  of  458 

b.c.,  during  the  political  excitement  occasioned  by 

the  Popular  Attack  on  the  Aristocratic 

Court  of  Mars'  Hill,  or  Areopagus 


The  passages  quoted  are  from  Plumptre's  Translation 


( 


r 


T 


MEMORANDUM 

The  Sacred  Legends  touched  by  this  Trilogy  would  be  familiar,  in 
outline,  to  the  Auditors:  e,g.: 

The  woes  of  the  House  of  Atreus :  the  foundation  of  them  laid 
by  Atreus  when,  to  take  vengeance  on  his  brother  Thyestes,  he  served 
up  to  him  at  a  banquet  the  flesh  of  his  own  sons; 

//is  grandsons  were  Agamemnon  and  Menelaus  :  Menelaus'  wife, 
//elen,  was  stolen  by  a  guest,  Paris  of  Troy,  which  caused  the  great 
Trojan  war, 

Agamemnon,  who  commanded  the  Greek  nations  in  that  war, 
fretting  at  the  contrary  winds  which  delayed  the  setting  out  of  the 
fleet,  was  persuaded  by  the  Seers  to  slay  his  own  daughter  /phigenia, 
to  appease  the  Deities ; 

//er  mother  Clytcemnestra  treasured  up  this  wrong  all  through 
^ .       the  ten  years'  war,  and  slew  Agamemnon  on  his  return,  in  the  moment 
/  of  victory,  slew  him  while  in  his  bath  by  casting  a  net  over  him  and 

smiting  him  to  death  with  her  own  arm  ; 

Then  she  reigned  in  triumph  with  ^gisthus  her  paramour  {him- 
self  one  of  the  fatal  house),  till  Orestes  her  son,  who  had  escaped  as 
an  infant  when  his  father  was  slaughtered,  returned  at  last,  and  slew 
the  guilty  pair  ; 

For  this  act  of  matricide,  though  done  by  the  command  of  Apollo, 
Orestes  was  given  up  to  the  Furies,  and  driven  over  the  earth,  a  mad- 
man,  till  in  Athens,  on  Mars  //ill  they  say,  he  was  cleansed  and 
healed. 

Cassandra  too  was  involved  in  the  fall  of  Agamemnon :  the  Trojan 
maiden  beloved  of  Apollo,  who  bestowed  upon  her  the  gift  of  pro- 
phecy;  when  she  slighted  the  God's  love,  Apollo— for  no  gift  of  a  god 
can  be  recalled— left  her  a  prophetess,  with  the  doom  that  her  true 
forebodings  should  ever  be  disbelieved.  She,  having  thus  vainly 
sought  to  save  Troy,  with  its  fall  fell  into  captivity,  and  to  the  lot  of 
Agamemnon,  with  whom  she  died. 

The  name  of  Orestes  would  suggest  the  proverbial  friendship  of 
Orestes  and  Py lades,  formed  in  Orestes"  trouble  and  never  broken. 


^V 


TRILOGY  OF  THE  ORESTEIA 

AGAMEMNON 

FIRST  PLAY:    IN  THE  MORNING: 


PROLOGUE 

The  Permanent  Scene  is  decorated  to  represent  the  facade  of  the  Palace 
of  Agamemnon,  at  Argos;  the  platform  over  the  Central  door  appear- 
ing as  a  Watch-tower.  At  intervals  along  the  front  of  the  Palace,  and 
especially  by  the  three  doors,  are  statues  of  Gods,  amongst  them  Apollo, 
Zeus,  and  //ermes.  The  time  is  supposed  to  be  night,  verging  on  morn- 
ing. Both  Orchestra  and  Stage  are  vacant:  only  a  Watchman  is  dis- 
covered on  the  Tower,  leaning  on  his  elbow,  and  gazing  into  the  distance. 

The  Watchman  soliloquizes  on  his  toilsome  task  of  watching  all  night 
through  for  the  first  sight  of  the  signal  which  is  to  tell  of  the  capture  of 
Troy :  he  has  kept  his  post  for  years,  till  the  constellations  which  usher  in 
winter  and  harvest-time  are  his  familiar  companions;  he  must  endure 
weather  and  sleeplessness,  and  when  he  would  sing  to  keep  his  spirits  up  he 
is  checked  by  thoughts  of  his  absent  master's  household,  in  which,  he  darkly 
hints,  things  are  "not  well."  [He  is  settling  himself  into  an  easier  posture, 
when  suddenly  he  springs  to  his  feet. '\  The  beacon-fire  at  last  I  [//e  shouts 
the  signal  agreed  upon,  and  begins  dancing  for  joy. '\  Now  all  will  be  well ; 
a  little  while  and  his  hand  shall  touch  the  dear  hand  of  his  lord ;  and  then — 
ah  1  "the  weight  of  an  ox  rests  on  his  tongue,"  but  if  the  house  had  a  voice 
it  could  tell  a  tale  !     \^Exit to  bring  tidings  to  the  queen,'\  39 

PARODE,  OR  CHORUS-ENTRY 

As  if  roused  by  the  Watchman's  shout,  enter  the  Chorus  :  Twelve  Elders 
of  Argos  :  in  the  usual  processional  order,  combining  music,  chanting 
and  gesture-dance,  to  a  rhythm  conventionally  associated  with  marching. 
They  enter  on  the  right  (as  if  from  the  city),  and  the  Processional  Chant 
takes  them  gradually  round  the  Orchestra  towards  the  Thymele,  or  Altar 
of  Dionysus,  in  the  centre. 

The  Chorus  in  their  Processional  Chant  open  the  general  state  of  affairs, 
especially  bringing  out  the  doublesidedtiess  of  the  situation  [which  is  the 
key-note  of  the  whole  Drama]:  the  expected  triumph  over  Troy,  which  can- 
not be  far  distant  now,  combined  with  misgivings  as  to  misfortunes  sure 
to  come  as  nemesis  for  the  dark  deeds  connected  with  the  setting  out  of 
the  expedition.     They  open  thus : 


10 


Lo  !  the  tenth  year  now  is  passing 
Since,  of  Priam  great  avengers, 
Menelaos,  Agamemnon, 
Double-throned  and  double-sceptred, 
Power  from  sovran  Zeus  deriving — 
Mighty  pair  of  the  Atreidae — 
Raised  a  fleet  of  thousand  vessels 


40 


353062 


\l 


Of  the  Argives  from  our  country. 

Potent  helpers  in  their  warfare. 

Shouting  cry  of  Ares  fiercely ; 

E'en  as  vultures  shriek  who  hover, 

Wheeling,  whirling  o'er  their  eyrie,  50 

In  wild  sorrow  for  their  nestlings, 

With  their  oars  of  stout  wings  rowing, 

Having  lost  the  toil  that  bound  them 

To  their  callow  fledglings'  couches. 

But  on  high  One — or  Apollo, 

Zeus,  or  Pan, — the  shrill  cry  hearing, 

Cry  of  birds  that  are  his  clients, 

Sendeth  forth  on  men  transgressing 

Erinnys,  slow  but  sure  avenger ; 

So  against  young  Alexandros 

Atreus'  sons  the  Great  King  sendeth, 

Zeus,  of  host  and  guest  protector :  60 

He,  for  bride  with  many  a  lover. 

Will  to  Danai  give  and  Troians 

Many  conflicts,  men's  limbs  straining, 

When  the  knee  in  dust  is  crouching, 

And  the  spear-shaft  in  the  onset 

Of  the  battle  snaps  asunder. 

But  as  things  are  now,  so  are  they, 

So,  as  destined,  shall  the  end  be. 

Nor  by  tears  nor  yet  libations 

Shall  he  soothe  the  wrath  unbending  70 

Caused  by  sacred  rites  left  fireless. 
They  are  going  on  to  soliloquize  how  they  themselves  have  been  shut  out  of 
the  glorious  expedition,  for,  in  matters  of  War,  old  age  is  but  a  return  to 
boyhood ;  when  g2 

The  Chorus- Procession  having  reached  the  Thymele,  turn  towards  the 
Stage.  Meanwhile  the  great  Central  Door  of  the  Stage  has  opened,  and 
a  solemn  Procession  filed  out  on  the  Stage,  consisting  of  the  Queen  and 
her  Attendants,  bearing  torches  and  incense,  and  offerings  for  the  Gods  ; 
they  have  during  the  Choral  Procession  silently  advanced  to  the  different 
Statues  along  the  front  of  the  Palace,  made  offerings  and  commenced  the 
sacrificial  rites.  When  the  Chorus  turn  towards  the  Stage,  the  whole 
Scene  is  ablaze  with  fires  and  trembling  with  clouds  of  incense,  rich  un- 
guents perfume  the  whole  Theatre,  while  a  solemn  Religious  ritual  is 
being  celebrated  in  dumb  show. 

The  Chorus  break  off  their  Processional  Chant  [keeping  the  same  rhythm] 
to  enquire  what  is  the  meaning  of  these  solemn  rites,  and  whether  the 
Queen  can  solve  their  doubt,  which  wavers  between  hope  and  foreboding: 
The  Queen  signifying,  by  a  gesture,  that  the  Ritual  must  not  be  inter- 
rupted by  speech,  the  Chorus  proceed  to  take  their  regular  position  round 
the  Thymele,  and  address  themselves  to  their  104 

PRELUDE 

the  Music,  Poetry,  and  Gesture-dance  changing  from  a  March  to  a 
highly  Lyrical  rhythm  ;  the  evolutions  oj  the  Dance  taking  Right  and 
Left  hand  directions,  but  without  the  Chorus  quitting  their  position  round 
the  Altar.* 


( 


♦This  is  a  mere  guess:  we  have  no  information  as  to  how  the  evolutions  of  a  Proem 
differed  fiom  those  of  a  regular  Choral  Ode. 


Strophe  :  during  which  the  evolutions 
take  a  Right  Hand  direction. 

The  Chorus  resume  :  though  shut  out  from  War  their  old  age  has  still  suasive 
power  of  song,  and  they  can  tell  of  the  famous  omen  seen  by  the  two  kings 
and  the  whole  army  as  they  waited  to  embark  :  two  eagles  on  the  left  devour- 
ing a  pregnant  hare : 

Sing  a  strain  of  woe 

But  may  the  good  prevail !  120 

Antistrophe  :  the  same  rhythm  line  for  line  as  the  Strophe, 

but  the  evolutions  taking  Left  Hand  direction. 
and  the  Prophet  Calchas  interpreted  :  they  shall  lay  Troy  low,  only  beware 
lest  the  Victors  suffer  from  the  wrath  of  some  God,  Artemis  who  hates  the 

eagle : 

Sing  a  strain  of  woe. 

But  may  the  good  prevail !  137 

Epode  :  a  different  rhythm,  and  the  evolutions 
without  any  special  direction. 

May  some  Healer,  Calchas  added,  avert  her  wrath,  lest  she  send  delays  upon 
the  impatient  host  and  irritate  them  to  some  dread  deed,  some  sacrifice  of 
children  to  haunt  the  house  for  ever  !     So  he  prophesied  in  piercing  strains. 

Sing  a  strain  of  woe, 

But  may  the  good  prevail  154 

ENTRY-ODE 

With  a  change  of  rhythm,  the  Chorus  pass  into  their  first  regular  Choral 
Ode  ;  Strophes  and  Antistrophes  as  in  the  Prelude,  but  the  Evolutions  now 
leading  them  from  the  central  Altar  to  the  extreme  Right  and  Left  of  the 
Orchestra. 

Strophe  I :  Evolutions  leading  Chorus  from 

Thymele  to  extreme  Right  of  Orchestra. 

It  must  be  Zeus — no  other  God  will  suffice — Zeus  alone  who  shall  lift  from 
my*  mind  this  cloud  of  anxiety : 

Antistrophe  I:  Evolutions  the  same,  rhythm  for  rhythm,  as  the 
Strophe,  but  leading  the  Chorus  back  from  the  Right  of  Orches- 
tra to  the  central  Altar. 

For  on  Zeus,  before  whom  all  the  elder  Gods  gave  way,  they  must  rely  who 
are  bent  on  getting  all  the  wisdom  of  the  wise.  168 

Strophe  II :  a  change  of  rhythm  :  evolutions  leading  Chorus 
from  the  central  Altar  to  the  extreme  Left  of  Orchestra. 

Yes  :  Zeus  leads  men  to  wisdom  by  his  fixed  law  that  pain  is  gain ;  by  instill- 
ing secret  care  in  the  heart,  it  may  be  in  sleep,  he  forces  the  unwilling  to 
yield  to  wiser  thoughts :  no  doubt  this  anxiety  is  a  gift  of  the  Gods,  whose 
might  is  irresistible.  176 

Antistrophe  II :  same  rhythm,  but  evolutions  leading 
back  from  Left  of  Orchestra  to  central  Altar. 

When  Agamemnon,  not  repining,  but  tempering  himself  to  the  fate  which 
smote  him,  waited  amidst  adverse  winds  and  failing  stores :  184 

*The  Chorus  generally  speak  of  themselves  in  the  Singular. 


(\ 


i.  . 


8 


r 

\ 


Strophe  III :  fresh  change  ofrhythm^ 
Chorus  moving  to  Right  of  Orchestra. 

wa^  bdnno^'^nr.'''^>K  ?',  '^""P^S^  ?°^"  ^'■^^  '^^  Strymon,  and  the  host 
was  being  worn  out  with  delays,  and  the  prophet  began  to  speak  of  'one 

more  charm  against  the  wrath  of  Artemis,  though  a  Iter  one  ?o  the  Chios' 


Antistrophe  III:  same  rythm,  movement 
back  from  Right  of  Orchestra  to  Altar. 


195 


( 


at  last  the  King  spoke :  great  woe  to  disobey  the  prophet,  great  woe  to  slav 

^L'^'^M  ^'T,  t'^  .1  "^"i^^'^'^  ^^^^^^  y^'  ^^-  1-^e  mrexprd'don.  m^ 
allies?    May  all  be  well  m  the  end !  ^      ^  "  n 

Strophe  IV:  change  of  rhythm  ; 
movements  to  the  left  of  Orchestra, 

So  when  he  himself  had  harnessed 
To  the  yoke  of  Fate  unbending, 
With  a  blast  of  strange  new  feeling 
Sweeping  o'er  his  heart  and  spirit, 
Aweless,  godless  and  unholy. 
He  his  thoughts  and  purpose  altered 
To  full  measure  of  all  daring, 
(Still  base  counsel's  fatal  frenzy, 
Wretched  primal  source  of  evils. 
Gives  to  mortal  hearts  strange  boldness,) 
And  at  last  his  heart  be  hardened 
His  own  child  to  slay  as  victim, 
Help  in  war  that  they  were  waging 
To  avenge  a  woman's  frailty. 
Victim  for  the  good  ship's  safety. 


And  wishing, — all  in  vain, — 

To  speak  ;  for  oftentimes 
In  those  her  father's  hospitable  halls 
She  sang,  a  maiden  pure  with  chastest  song, 

And  her  dear  father's  life 
That  poured  its  threefold  cup  of  praise  to  God, 

Crowned  with  all  choicest  good. 

She  with  a  daughter's  love 

Was  wont  to  celebrate 

Antistrophe  V:  Back  to  Altar, 

What  then  ensued  mine  eyes 
Saw  not,  nor  may  I  tell,  but  Calchas'  arts 
Were  found  not  fruitless.    Justice  turns  the  scale 

For  those  to  whom  through  pain 

At  last  comes  wisdom's  gain. 

But  for  our  future  fate. 

Since  help  for  it  is  none. 
Good-bye  to  it  before  it  comes,  and  this 
Has  the  same  end  as  wailing  premature ; 

For  with  to-morrow's  dawn 
It  will  come  clear ;  may  good  luck  crown  our  fate ! 

So  prays  the  one  true  guard, 

Nearest  and  dearest  found, 

Of  this  our  Apian  land. 

EPISODE  I 


238 


248 


219 


I 


Antistrophe  IV  :  back  to  Altar, 

All  her  prayers  and  eager  callings 

On  the  tender  name  of  Father, 

All  her  young  and  maiden  freshness. 

They  but  set  at  naught,  those  rulers, 

In  their  passion  for  the  battle. 

And  her  father  gave  commandment 

To  the  servants  of  the  Goddess, 

When  the  prayer  was  o'er,  to  lift  her. 

Like  a  kid,  above  the  altar, 

In  her  garments  wrapt,  face  downwards,— 

Yea,  to  seize  with  all  their  courage. 

And  that  o'er  her  lips  of  beauty 

Should  be  set  a  watch  to  hinder 

Words  of  curse  against  the  houses, 

With  the  gag's  strength  silence-working. 

Strophe  V:  Altar  to  Right  of  Orchestra, 

And  she  upon  the  ground 
Pouring  rich  folds  of  veil  in  saffron  dyed, 
Cast  at  each  one  of  those  who  sacrificed 

A  piteous  glance  that  pierced 

Fair  as  a  pictured  form, 


^The  Ritual  on  the  Stage  being  now  concluded^  Clytamnestra  advances  to 
the  front.  At  the  same  moment  the  Choral  Ode  is  finished  and  the 
Chorus  take  up  their  usual  position  during  the  Episodes^  drawn  up  in 
two  lines  in  front  of  the  Altar  facing  the  Stage.  They  speak  only 
by  their  Foreman  {or  Coryph(EUs)y  and  use  the  ordinary  Iambic  Metre 
{equivalent  to  our  Blank  Verse). 

The  Foreman  of  the  Chorus  repeats  his  enquiries  of  Clytsemnestra  as  to 
the  meaning  of  this  sudden  rejoicing,  guardedly  adding  that  it  his  duty 
to  pay  respect  to  his  lord's  wife  in  his  absence  —  Clytcemnestra  announces 
that  Troy  has  been  taken  this  last  night  —  rapid  interchange  of  stichomu- 
thic  dialogue,  the  Chorus  expressing  their  amazement  as  to  how  the  news 
could  travel  so  fast. 

Cho.       What  herald  could  arrive  with  speed  like  this? 
Clytcem.  Hephaestos  flashing  forth  bright  flames  from  Ida  : 

Beacon  to  beacon  from  that  courier-fire 

Sent  on  its  tidings ;  Ida  to  the  rock 

Hermaean  named,  in  Lemnos :  from  the  isle 

The  height  of  Athos,  dear  to  Zeus,  received 

A  third  great  torch  of  flame,  and  lifted  up. 

So  as  on  high  to  skim  the  broad  sea's  back, 

The  stalwart  fire  rejoicing  went  its  way ; 

The  pine  wood,  like  a  sun,  sent  forth  its  light 

Of  golden  radiance  to  Makistos'  watch ; 

And  he,  with  no  delay,  nor  unawares 

Conquered  by  sleep,  performed  his  courier's  part.* 

Far  off  the  torch-light  to  Euripos'  straits 


' 


I 


lO 


Advancing,  tells  it  to  Messapion's  guard  : 

They,  in  their  turn,  lit  up  and  passed  it  on. 

Kindling  a  pile  of  dry  and  aged  heath. 

Still  strong  and  fresh  the  torch,  not  yet  grown  dim, 

Leaping  across  Asopos'  plain  in  guise 

Like  a  bright  moon,  towards  Kithaeron's  rock. 

Roused  the  next  station  of  the  courier  flame. 

And  that  far-travelled  light  the  sentries  there 

Refused  not,  burning  more  than  all  yet  named  : 

And  then  the  light  swooped  o'er  Gorgopis'  lake, 

And  passing  on  to  ifUgiplanctos'  mount. 

Bade  the  bright  fire's  due  order  tarry  not ; 

And  they,  enkindling  boundless  store,  send  on 

A  mighty  beard  of  flame,  and  then  it  passed 

The  headland  e'en  that  looks  on  Saron's  gulf 

Still  blazing.     On  it  swept,  until  it  came 

To  Arachnaean  heights,  the  watch-tower  near ; 

Then  here  on  the  Atreidae's  roof  it  swoops. 

This  light,  of  Ida's  fire  no  doubtful  heir. 

Such  is  the  order  of  my  torch-race  games ; 

One  from  another  taking  up  the  course. 

But  here  the  winner  is  both  first  and  last ; 

And  this  sure  proof  and  token  now  I  tell  thee, 

Seeing  that  my  lord  hath  sent  it  me  from  Troia. 


307 


While  the  Chorus  are  still  overcome  with  amazement,  Clytamnestra 
triumphs  over  the  condition  of  Troy  that  morning  :  like  a  vessel  containing 
oil  and  vinegar,  the  conquered,  bewailing  their  first  day  of  captivity  over 
the  corpses  of  husbands  and  sons,  the  victors  enjoying  their  first  rest  free 
from  the  chill  dews  of  night  and  the  sentry's  call  —and  all  will  be  well  // 
they  remember  the  rights  of  the  Gods  in  their  sack  of  the  city :  ah  !  may 
they  not  in  their  exultation  commit  some  sacrilegious  deed  of  plunder,  for- 
getting that  they  have  only  reached  the  goal,  and  have  the  return  to  make  ! 
If  they  should,  the  curse  of  those  who  have  perished  might  still  awake 
against  them  [CL  thus  darkly  harping  upon  her  secret  hope  that  ven- 
geance may  still  overtake  them  for  the  sacrifice  of  her  daughter].  345 

Exit  Clytcemnestra^  with  Attendants. 
After  a  few  words  of  triumph  {in  marching  rhythm),  that  Zeus,  protector  of 
host  and  guest,  has  visited  the  proud  Trojans,  and  brought  them  into  a  net 
of  bondage  that  neither  young  nor  full-grown  can  overleap,  the  Chorus  pro- 
ceed to  a  more  formal  expression  of  their  feelings  in  357 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  I 

breaking,  as  regularly  in  the  Choral  Odes,  into  highly  Lyrical  rhythms 
accompanied  with  Music  and  Gesture-dance,  the  evolutions  of  which  lead 
them  alternately  to  Right  and  Left  of  Orchestra  and  back  to  Altar. 

Strophe  I:  evolutions 
from  Altar  to  Right. 

Yes  :  it  is  the  hand  of  Zeus  we  may  trace  in  all  this  !  Now  what  will  they 
say  who  contend  that  the  Gods  care  not  when  mortal  men  trample  under  foot 
the  inviolable?  Troy  knows  better  now,  that  once  relied  on  its  abounding 
wealth :  ah !  moderate  fortune  is  best  for  the  seeker  after  Wisdom ; 
Wealth  is  no  bulwark  to  those  who  in  wantonness  have  spumed  the  altar  of 
the  Right  and  Just.  yj^ 


II 


Antistrophe  I:  evolutions  from  Right 
back  to  Altar,  rhythm  as  in  Strophe. 

Such  a  man  is  urged  on  by  Impulse,  offspring  of  Infatuation,  till  his  mis- 
chief stands  out  clear,  as  worthless  bronze  stripped  of  its  varnish.  So  Paris 
sees  now  his  light-hearted  crime  has  brought  his  city  low.  He  came  to  the 
house  of  the  Sons  of  Atreus,  and  stole  a  Queen  away,  leaving  Shame  where 
he  had  sat  as  Guest.  392 

Strophe  II:  change  of  rhythm, 
evolutions  from  Altar  to  Left. 

She,  leaving  to  her  countrymen  at  home 

Wild  din  of  spear  and  shield  and  ships  of  war. 

And  bringing,  as  her  dower. 

To  Ilion  doom  of  death. 
Passed  very  swiftly  through  the  palace  gates. 

Daring  what  none  should  dare ; 

And  many  a  wailing  cry 
They  raised,  the  minstrel  prophets  of  the  house, 

"  Woe  for  that  kingly  home  I 
Woe  for  that  kingly  home  and  for  its  chiefs ! 
Woe  for  the  marriage-bed  and  traces  left 

Of  wife  who  loved  her  lord  ! " 
There  stands  he  silent ;  foully  wronged  and  yet 

Uttering  no  word  of  scorn. 
In  deepest  woe  perceiving  she  is  gone  j 

And  in  his  yearning  love 

For  one  beyond  the  sea, 
A  ghost  shall  seem  to  queen  it  o'er  the  house ; 

The  grace  of  sculptured  forms 

Is  loathed  by  her  lord. 
And  in  the  penury  of  life's  bright  eyes 

All  Aphrodite's  charm 

To  utter  wreck  has  gone. 


409 


Antistrophe  II:   back  to  Altar. 

And  phantom  shades  that  hover  round  in  dreams 
Come  full  of  sorrow,  bringing  vain  delight ; 

For  vain  it  is,  when  one 

Sees  seeming  shows  of  good, 
And  gliding  through  his  hands  the  dream  is  gone. 

After  a  moment's  space. 

On  wings  that  follow  still 
Upon  the  path  where  sleep  goes  to  and  fro. 

Such  are  the  woes  at  home 
Upon  the  altar  hearth,  and  worse  than  these. 
But  on  a  wider  scale  for  those  who  went 

From  Hellas'  ancient  shore, 
A  sore  distress  that  causeth  pain  of  heart 

Is  seen  in  every  house. 
Yea,  many  things  there  are  that  touch  the  quick : 

For  those  whom  each  did  send 

He  knoweth  ;  but,  instead 
Of  living  men,  there  come  to  each  man's  home 

Funereal  urns  alone. 

And  ashes  of  the  dead. 


425 


12 

Strophe  III:  change  of  rhythm^ 
evolutions  from  Altar  to  Right. 

War  IS  a  trafficker;  in  the  rush  of  battle  he  holds  scales,  and  for  the  golden 
coin  you  spend  on  him  he  sends  you  back  lifeless  shapes  of  men ;  they  sent 
out  men,  the  loving  friends  receive  back  well  smoothed  ashes  from  the 
funeral  pyre.  They  sing  the  heroic  fall  of  some — all  for  another's  wife ; 
and  some  murmur  discontent  against  the  sons  of  Atreus,  and  some  have 
won  a  grave  in  the  land  they  have  conquered.  441 

Antistrophe  III:  evolutions  repeated^ 
but  from  Right  back  to  Altar. 

So  sullen  discontent  has  been  doing  the  work  of  a  people's  curse :  therefore 
it  is  that  I  am  awaiting  with  dim  forebodings  the  full  news.  The  Gods  do 
not  forget  those  who  have  shed  much  blood,  and  sooner  or  later  the  dark- 
robed  Deities  of  the  Curse  consign  the  evil-doer  to  impassable,  hopeless 
gloom.  Away  with  the  dazzling  success  that  attracts  the  thunderbolt !  be 
mine  the  moderate  lot  that  neither  causes  nor  suffers  captivity.  458 

Epode:  change  of  rhythm  and  Chorus 
not  moving  from  the  Altar. 

The  courier  flame  has  brought  good  news — but  who  knows  whether  it  be 
true  ? — Yet  it  is  childish  when  the  heart  is  all  aglow  with  the  message  of  the 
flame  to  be  turned  round  by  everchanging  rumour. — Yet  it  is  the  nature  of  a 
woman  to  believe  too  soon.  [Observe  how  the  Chorus,  setting  out  on  an 
ode  of  triumph,  have  come  back  to  their  persistent  forebodings.]  471 

Suddenly  at  the  Side-door  on  the  extreme  Left  of  the  Stage  {signifying 
distance)  appears  a  Herald^  covered  with  dust^  crowned  with  olive  in 
token  of  victory.  The  Chorus  immediately  fall  into  their  Episode  position 
to  receive  him^  the  Eoreman  expressing  their  anticipations  as  the  Herald 
traverses  the  long  stage  to  the  point  opposite  the  Chorus, 

EPISODE  II 

Foreman  of  Chorus.  Now  we  shall  have  a  clearer  message  than  that  of 
the  beacon-fires  :  all  is  well  or  .  .  .  but  I  cannot  put  the  other  alterna- 
tive. The  Herald  {arrived  opposite  the  Chorus)  solemnly  salutes  the  land  of 
Argos  he  had  never  hoped  to  see  again,  salutes  the  several  Gods  whose 
statues  are  now  bright  with  the  morning  sun,  especially  Apollo  who  has 
proved  himself  a  Healer,  and  Hermes  patron  of  Heralds;  and  then  an- 
nounces Agamemnon  is  close  at  hand,  victorious  over  Troy  and  having  sent 
Paris  to  his  merited  punishment. — Observe  how  in  the  parallel  dialogue  that 
follows  the  foreboding  tone  creeps  in  again  in  the  midst  of  the  news  of 


\ 


triumph. 


Chor.  Joy,  joy,  thou  herald  of  the  Achaean  host ! 
Her.  All  joy  is  mine  :     I  shrink  from  death  no  more. 
Chor.  Did  love  for  this  thy  fatherland  so  try  thee  ? 
Her.  So  that  mine  eyes  weep  tears  for  very  joy. 
Chor.  Disease  full  sweet  then  this  ye  suffered  from  .   .  . 
Her.  How  so  ?    When  taught,  I  shall  thy  meaning  master. 
Chor.  Ye  longed  for  us  who  yearned  for  you  in  turn. 
Her.  Say'st  thou  this  land  its  yearning  host  yearned  o'er  ? 
Chor.  Yea,  so  that  oft  I  groaned  in  gloom  of  heart. 
Her.  Whence  came  these  bodings  that  an  army  hates  ? 
Chor.  Silence  I've  held  long  since  a  charm  for  ill. 
Her.  How,  when  your  lords  were  absent,  feared  ye  any  ? 
Chor.  To  use  thy  words,  death  now  would  welcome  be. 


520 


533 


\ 


13 

The  Herald,  not  understanding  the  source  of  the  Chorus'  misgiving,  goes 
on  to  say  of  course  their  success  is  mixed :  so  fare  all  but  the  Gods.  They 
have  had  their  tossings  on  the  sea,  their  exposure  to  the  night  dews  till  their 
hair  is  shaggy  as  beasts' :  but  why  remember  these  now  ?  our  toil  is  past — 
so^e  suddenly  recollects^is  that  of  the  dead  they  have  left  behind — but  he 
will  shake  off  these  feelings :  Troy  is  captured.  The  Chorus  feel  youthful 
with  such  happy  tidings.  569 

Enter  Clytcemnestra  from  the  Palace. 

Clyt.  Now  they  will  believe  me,  who  were  saying  just  now  that  women 
believed  too  soon.  What  joy  for  a  wife  equal  to  that  of  a  husband's  return  ? 
and  I  have  kept  my  trust  as  stainless  as  bronze.  \^Exit  into  Palace.^  The 
Foreman  goes  on  to  enquire  as  to  Menelaus  :  the  Herald  would  fain  not 
answer,  and  brings  out  the  Greek  dread  of  mingling  bad  news  with  good — 
at  last  he  is  forced  to  acknowledge  Menelaus  has  disappeared,  his  ship  sun- 
dered from  the  fleet  by  a  terrible  storm  in  which 

They  a  compact  swore  who  erst  were  foes, 
Ocean  and  Fire,  634 

and  the  sea  *  blossomed  with  wrecks  of  ships  and  dead  Achaeans  :  *  the  fleet 
itself  barely  escaped.  [Thus  :  foreboding  indirectly  assisted  by  its  appear- 
ing that  one  of  the  two  sons  of  Atreus  has  already  been  overtaken  by  Neme- 
sis.] 663 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  II 

[PositionSy  etc.,  as  before."} 

Strophe  I:  to  the  Right. 

Who  could  foresee  so  well  and  give  her  the  name  Helen — a  Helff^  to  men 
and  ships  and  towers  ?  She  came  out  of  bowers  of  gorgeous  curtains,  she 
sailed  with  breezes  soft  as  Zephyrs  yet  strong  as  Titans,  and  unseen  reached 
the  leafy  banks  of  the  Simois ;  but  bloodshed  was  in  her  train,  and  on  her 
track  followed  hosts  of  hunters  that  carried  shields.  680 

Antistrophe  I:  back  to  Altar. 

So  there  is  a  wrath  that  works  vengeance  after  long  waiting :  to  the  Ilion 
that  received  her  she  was  a  dear  bride :  then  there  was  a  shout  of  *  Paris, 
Paris,'  in  the  Bridal  Song :  now  his  city  has  celebrated  a  Wedding  of  Death, 
and  called  on  Paris'  name  in  other  tones.  695 

Strophe  II:  Altar  to  Left. 

So  once  a  lion's  cub, 

A  mischief  in  his  house. 

As  foster  child  one  reared, 

While  still  it  loved  the  teats ; 

In  life's  preluding  dawn 

Tame,  by  the  children  loved, 

And  fondled  by  the  old. 

Oft  in  his  arms  'twas  held. 

Like  infant  newly  bom. 
With  eyes  that  brightened  to  the  hand  that  stroked. 
And  fawning  at  the  best  of  hunger  keen.  704 

*  This  is  simply  an  Engilsh  pun  substituted  for  a  Greek  one  :  the  name  Helen  resembles  a 

Creek  root  which  signifies  captivity. 


:v 


/ 


! 

{ 


I 


} 


t 

1'        1 


14 


Antistrophe  II:  back  to  Altar. 

But  when  full-grown,  it  showed 

The  nature  of  its  sires ; 

For  it  unbidden  made 

A  feast  in  recompense 

Of  all  their  fostering  care. 

By  banquet  of  slain  sheep  ; 

With  blood  the  house  was  stained, 

A  curse  no  slaves  could  check, 

Great  mischief  murderous : 
By  God's  decree  a  priest  of  Ate  thus 
Was  reared,  and  grew  within  the  man's  own  house.  715 

Strophe  III :  Altar  to  Right. 

So  I  would  tell  that  thus  to  Ilion  came 
Mood  as  of  calm  when  all  the  air  is  still. 
The  gentle  pride  and  joy  of  kingly  state, 

A  tender  glance  of  eye. 
The  full-blown  blossom  of  a  passionate  love. 

Thrilling  the  very  soul ; 

And  yet  she  turned  aside, 
And  wrought  a  bitter  end  of  marriage  feast. 

Coming  to  Priam's  race, 

111  sojourner,  ill  friend, 
Sent  by  great  Zeus,  the  God  of  host  and  guest — 
Erinnys,  for  whom  wives  weep  many  tears.  726 

Antistrophe  III :  back  to  Altar. 

The  time-honored  saying  is  that  Prosperity  grown  big  will  not  die  childless, 
its  offspring  will  be  a  Woe  insatiable.  I  say  no,  it  is  not  the  Prosperity,  it  is 
an  Impious  deed  that  breeds  Impious  deeds  like  the  parent  stock.  737 

Strophe  IV  :  from  Altar  to  Left. 

Recklessness  begets  Recklessness,  this  begets  full-flushed  Lust  and  Godfor- 
getting  Daring,  two  black  curses  to  a  household.  746 

Antistrophe  IV :  back  to  Altar. 

Justice  will  dwell  in  houses  blackened  with  smoke  where  life  is  ruled  by  law, 
but  averts  her  eyes  from  gold-decked  mansions  conjoined  with  hands  defiled : 
and  it  is  this  Justice  that  is  directing  the  course  of  things  to  its  appointed 
goal.  755 

At  this  pointy  a  grand  Procession  of  the  returning  Warriors  from  Troy 
enters  Stage  and  Orchestra  by  the  Left  Side-Door  [signifying  distance^  : 
Agamemnon  in  his  charioty  followed  in  another  chariot  by  Cassandra  as 
captive^  but  still  in  the  garb  of  prophetess  :  then  a  train  of  Soldiers  laden 
with  trophies  and  leading  a  train  of  Troian  captive  women.  The 
Chorus  fcUl  into  their  Episode  position  to  receive  them. 

EPISODE  III 

Chorus  [in  marching  rhythm  as  the  Procession  traverses  the  long  Stage.) 
Son  of  Atreus,  how  are  we  to  hit  upon  welcome  that  shall  be  fit  for  thee,  not 
missing  or  overshooting  the  mark  ?  In  both  condolence  and  congratulation 
men's  faces  often  belie  their  hearts ;  thou  who  knowest  thine  own  sheep, 
should'st  be  able  to  tell  kindness  from  flattery.  We  confess,  when  thou  wentest 
forth  on  thy  expedition,  thou  wast  to  us  like  a  face  limned  by  an  unskilled 
artist,  in  the  deed  thou  did'st  to  inspire  false  courage.    Now,  without  a 


^Pl  is  well  that  eims^wt 

"of  thee  in  thy  absence.     [Obse^ 

jetre  \u7.w  settling  into  ordinal 

h  by  whose  help  we  haveiaid  fro^  „.., _ 

r^p  clouds  of  smoke  as  sweet  incense  to  the  Deities  of  Ven 
/our  sentiments,  both  then  and  now,  I  approve;  prosperity 
\%  true  sympathy  amidst  the  envy  it  excites;  envy  that  has  the 
_  n  missmg  its  own  and  seeing  another's  good.  Experience  has 
irr^rr.  ."^tt,  ^  difference  between  professing  and  true  friends :  my  unwilling 
icom.ade  Ulysses  alone  proved  true  to  me.  As  to  the  state  we  will  deliberate 
Icrprv  ^/^""^^^  ^^  *°  w^^t  ^^eds  preserving,  and  where  disease  calls  for  sur- 
Igery.     At  present  I  must  give  thanks  at  my  own  hearth  for  my  safe  return. 

iHere  the  Central  Door  of  the  Stage  is  thrown  open,  and  enter  Clytcem- 
I  nestra  to  welcome  her  lord,  followed  by  attendants  bearing  rich  draperies 
(  of  purple  and  dazzling  colors.  827 

plyt.     Notwithstanding  your  presence.  Senators  of  Argos,  I  must  pour  out 

V^y  heart  to  my  lord.     Ah  !  a  sad  thing  is  a  wife  waiting  at  home  for  her 

|aj5sent  husband  !  hearing  of  wounds,  which  if  true  would  have  made  you  a 

■l-iddled  net,  of  deaths  enough  for  a  three-lived  Geryon  :  again  and  again  I 

^lave  been  stopped  with  the  noose  already  on  my  neck  !     This  is  the  reason 

vhy  you  see  not  your  son  Orestes :  wonder  not,  he  is  being  brought  up  by 

in  ally  to  whom  I  sent  him,  lest  danger  befall  us.   I  cannot  weep  :  my  tears 

lave  run  dry  by  my  weepings  and  sleepless  watchings  for  the  beacon.    Now 

it  ease  I  hail  my  lord 

as  watch-dog  of  the  fold, 
The  stay  that  saves  the  ship,  of  lofty  roof  870 

Main  column-prop,  a  father's  only  child. 
Land  that  beyond  all  hope  the  sailor  sees. 
Mom  of  great  brightness  following  after  storm. 
Clear-flowing  fount  to  thirsty  traveller. 

"^e  bare  ground  is  not  fit  for  the  foot  that  has  trampled  on  Ilion :  strew 
Attendants)  tapestry  on  the  floor  as  the  Conqueror  steps  from  his  car. 
f  Attendants  commence  to  lay  down  the  draperies  :  Agamemnon  {hastening 
top  them)  rebukes  Clytaemnestra  for  the  excessive  tone  of  her  welcome, 
1  bids  her  not  make  him  offensive  to  the  Gods,  by  assuming  an  honor 
[or  the  Gods  alone,  no  man  being  safe  in  prosperity  till  he  has  died ;  fame, 
'  foot-mats,  and  never  to  lose  the  path  of  Wisdom,  are  his  glories.     A  con- 
st ensues  [the  false  Clytaemnestra  anxious  to  entangle  him  in  an  act  of  In- 
flation]; at  last  he  yields,  but  removes  the  shoe  from  his  foot,  to  avert  the 
Jmen  of  such  presumptuous  display.     He  then  commends  the  captive  Cas- 
^ra  to  the  Queen's  kind  treatment,  and  Clyt.  renews  her  lofty  expressions 
there  is  store  of  purple  in  the  palace,  and  many  such  robes  would  she 
%o  welcome  his  return,  the  root  of  the  household  bringing  warmth  in 
land  coolness  in  the  dog-days.     Ah  !  may  Zeus  work  out  for  me  " all 
[\^  ish  for."     [So  Exeunt :  Ag.  walking  barefoot  on   the  rich  tapestry, 
ira  alone  remains  on  the  Stage  in  her  chariot.]  949 

>RAL  INTERLUDE  III 
,/.•  to  the  Right. 

\  gate  of  our  hearts,  and  we  lack  steadfast 
It  is  not  long  since  that  fatal  starting  for 

959 


Antistrophe  I :  back  to 

^e  seen  with  our  own  eyes  the  sa. 

tg^ithin  itself  a  dirg^^if  fate 
m  sencTlhey ^iroye  false  oracles! 

Strophe  II:  to  the  Left. 

When  Wealth  o'erflows.  Restlessness,  as  a  near  neighbor  w! 
between,  presses  it  on  with  perpetual  desire  for  more,  till  Prospe! 
suddenly  on  an  unseen  rock — ^yet  even  then,  by  sacrificing  a  portion  ol 
cargo,  the  rest  may  be  saved;  so  by  plenteous  harvests  sent  from  Zeus,  hunj 
ger  and  pestilence  may  be  allayed  :  ;  9g( 


Antistrophe  II :  back  to  Altar. 


\ 


but  when  blood  has  once  been  poured  upon  the  ground,  what  charm\  cai 
bring  it  back  ?    Zeus  struck  dead  the  Healer  who  found  how  to  restore  life] 
I  would  give  my  misgiving  relief  in  pouring  out  words  of  warning :  bit 
know  that  fate  is  certain  and  can  never  be  escaped ;  so  I  am  plunged  ii 
gloom,  with  little  hope  ever  to  unravel  my  soul  that  bums  with  its  Bioj 
thoughts.  looj 

EXODUS,  OR  FINALE 

Re-enter  Clytcemnestra  to  fetch  Cassandra.  Clyt.  addresses  Cassandra  ii 
moderate  tone,  bidding  her  adapt  herself  to  her  new  life  and  yield  to  thos 
who  wish  to  soften  her  captivity.  \Cassandra  pays  no  attention  and  seem] 
gazing  into  vacancy.]  The  Chorus  endorses  Clytaemnestra's  advice.  a( 
length  it  occurs  to  Clytaemnestra  that  Cassandra  cannot  speak  Greek,  and  sh< 
bids  her  give  some  sign.  [No  sign,  but  a  shudder  convulses  her  frame.' 
Thinking  she  is  obstinate  Clytaemnestra  will  wait  no  longer  [exit  Clyt.  int 
Palace  to  the  sacrifice^  The  Chorus  renew  their  advice  to  Cassandra! 
She  at  length  leaves  the  chariot  and  suddenly  bursts  into  a  cry  of  horror.  103} 

Then  follows,  marking  the  crisis  of  the  drama,  a  burst  of  lyrical  excitemenf 
The  dialogue  between  Chorus  and  Cassandra  falls  into  lyrical  strophes 
antistrophes  ;  Cassandra,  by  her  prophetic  gift,  can  see  all  that  is  going  on 
about  to  be  consummated  within  the   Palace.     Her  wailings  reproach; 
patron  and  lover  Apollo,  who  has  conducted  her  to  a  house  of  blood  ;| 
sees  the  past  murders  that  have  stained  the  house,  she  sees  the  preparat] 
for  the  present  deed,  the  bath,  the  net,  the  axe;  then  her  wailings  waxf 
wilder  as  she  sees  that  she  herself  is  to  be  included  in  the  sacrifice.     M'^ 
time  her  excitement  gradually  passes  over  to  the  Chorus :  at  first  they  ' 
mistaken  her  cries  for  the  ordinary  lamentations  of  captives  (and  borne 
part  in  the  dialogue  in  the  ordinary  '  blank  verse') ;  then  their  emotionj 
roused  (and  their  speech  falls  into  lyrics)  as  they  re'cognize  the  old 
the  family  history  and  remember  Cassandra's  prophetic  fame ;  as  si 
to  the  deed  going  on  at  the  moment  they  feel  a  thrill  of  horror,  but  or] 
understand  and  take  her  words  for  prophecy  of  distant  events,  whi< 
connect  with  their  own  forebodings ;  thus  in  her  struggles  to  get  hei 
believed  Cassandra  becomes  more  and  more  graphic  in  her  notices 
scene  her  mental  eye  is  seeing,  and  the  excitement  crescendoes  until 

As     if    the   crisis    were    now    determined^jMBW||logue    settle 
into    'blank    verse'   again.      Cassandra  jf^^^^^^^^rchestra 
Slie  will  no  longer  speiJc  veiled  prophec^^^^^^^^^^ftk  wa.^ 
the   sunlight     She    begins  with  the 
since    that    |nimal    woe    that    defile 
GUnu  wonder  an  lUen  cmn  know  the 


17 


its  them  know  of  her  amour  with  Apollo,  and  how  she  gained  the  gift  of 
rophecy  and  then  deceived  the  God  and  was  doomed  to  have  her  prophecies 
Eomed. — Continuing  her  vision  she  points  to  the  phantom  children,  *  their 
alms  filled  full  with  meat  of  their  own  flesh,'  sitting  on  the  house  :  in  re- 
enge  for  that  deed  another  crime  is  this  moment  about  to  stain  further 
ae  polluted  dwelling,  a  brave  hero  falling  at  the  hands  of  a  coward,  and 
y  a  plot  his  monster  of  a  wife  has  contrived. — The  Chorus  still  perplexed, 
Zassandra  NAMES  Agamemnon,  the  Chorus  essaying  vainly  to  stop  the  ill- 
ated  utterance. — Then  Cassandra  goes  on  to  describe  how  she  herself  must 
)e  sacrificed  with  her  new  lord,  a  victim  to  the  jealous  murderess ;  bitterly 
eproaching  Apollo,  she  strips  from  her  the  symbols  and  garb  of  her  pro- 
phetic art,  which  the  god  has  made  so  bitter  to  her,  and  moves  to  the 
'  butcher's  block,'  foretelling  how  the  Son  shall  come  as  his  father's  avenger 
and  hers. — The  Chorus  ask,  why  go  to  meet  your  fate  instead  of  escaping  ? 
Cassandra  knows  Fate  is  inevitable. — Again  and  again  she  shrinks  back 
from  the  door,  *  tainted  with  the  scent  of  death ;'  then  gazing  for  the  last 
time  on  the  loved  rays  of  the  Sun,  and  invoking  him  as  witness  and  avenger, 
she  abandons  herself  to  her  doom. 

Ah,  life  of  man  1  when  most  it  prospereth,  1298 

It  is  but  limned  in  outline ;  and  when  brought 
To  low  estate,  then  doth  the  sponge,  full  soaked, 
Wipe  out  the  picture  with  its  frequent  touch. 

[Passes  through  the  Central  Door  into  Palace."] 

The  Chorus  (in  lyrical  rhythm).  .  It  is  true  good  fortune  can  never  be 
fended  from  the  visitation  of  evil,  which  no  strong  palace  can  bar  out. 
What  will  it  avail  Agamemnon  to  have  taken  Troy  and  come  in  honor 
home,  if  it  be  really  his  destiny  to  pay  the  penalty  of  that  old  deed  of  blood- 
guiltiness  ?  13 1 3 
{Here  a  laud  cry  is  heard  from  within  the  Palace.) 

The  Chorus  recognize  the  voice  of  the  King,  and  fear  the  deed  is  accom* 
plished.  In  extreme  excitement  the  Chorus  break  up,  and  each  member,  one 
after  another,  suggests  what  is  to  be  done  ;  at  last  they  compose  their  ranks 
to  learn  what  has  actually  occurred.  1342 

Suddenly,  by  the  machinery  of  the  Roller-stage  [Eccyclema],  the  interior  of 
the  Palace  is  moved  to  the  front  of  the  Stage,  and  discovers  Clytcemnestra  in 
blood-stained  robes,  standing  with  attendants  by  the  corpses  of  Agamemnon  and 
Cassandra,  the  former  lying  in  a  silvered  bath  covered  with  a  net. 

Clytcemnestra,  in  an  elaborate  speech,  glories  in  her  deed.  Deceit  was 
necessary  in  dealing  vrith  foes :  now  standing  where  she  did  the  deed,  she 
glories  in  it:  glories  in  the  net  in  which  she  entangled  and  rendered  him 
powerless,  in  the  blows,  one,  two,  three,  like  a  libation,  which  she  struck, 
glories  in  the  gush  of  death-blood  which  has  bespattered  her.  A  late 
triumph  :  he  had  come  home  to  drain  the  goblet  of  curses  his  old  deed  had 
been  long  heaping  up.  After  an  interruption  of  astonishment  from  the 
Foreman,  she  repeats :  it  is  the  handiwork  of  my  artist  hand.  After  the 
Chorus  have  recovered  from  their  astonishment  they  {in  a  lyrical  burst)  de- 
nounce her :  her  confession  is  the  incense  on  the  Victim's  head,  she  shall 
feel  the  people's  strong  hate,  and  have  an  exile's  doom.  Oyt.  {calmly 
in  Blank  Verse) :  they  denounced  no  such  exile  against  Agamemnon  when 
he  sacrificed  her  daughter,  the  first  of  her  travail  pangs.  Besides,  are 
they  sure  they  are  the  stronger  ?  Perchance,  though  old,  they  may  yet 
have  to  leam.  Chorus  {in  a  similar  lyrical  burst) :  she  is  now  maddened 
with  the  spirit  of  vengeance,  but  she  will  one  day  find  a  nemcaK,  blow  fm 


17 


Antistrophe  I :  hack  to 

5e  seen  with  our  own  eyes  the  saft^l_ 

tt^^ithin  itself  a  dirge^  fatJ^  ^ 
bn  senHTftey^iEaye  /alse  oracles ! 

Strophe  II:  to  the  Left, 

When  Wealth  o'erflows,  Restlessness,  as  a  near  neighbor  w  1 
between,  presses  it  on  with  perpetual  desire  for  more,  till  Prospe^^ 
suddenly  on  an  unseen  rock — ^yet  even  then,  by  sacrificing  a  portion  of 
cargo,  the  rest  may  be  saved ;  so  by  plenteous  harvests  sent  from  Zeus,  hunj 
ger  and  pestilence  may  be  allayed  :  98( 

Antistrophe  II :  back  to  Altar. 

but  when  blood  has  once  been  poured  upon  the  ground,  what  charm  cai 
bring  it  back  ?    Zeus  struck  dead  the  Healer  who  found  how  to  restore  lifej 
I  would  give  my  misgiving  relief  in  pouring  out  words  of  warning :  but 
know  that  fate  is  certain  and  can  never  be  escaped ;  so  I  am  plunged  ii 
gloom,  with  little  hope  ever  to  unravel  my  soul  that  bums  with  its  ho]| 
tiioughts.  loc: 

EXODUS,  OR  FINALE 

Re-enter  Clytcemnestra  to  fetch  Cassandra.  Clyt.  addresses  Cassandra  ii 
moderate  tone,  bidding  her  adapt  herself  to  her  new  life  and  yield  to  thos^ 
who  wish  to  soften  her  captivity.  [Cassandra  pays  no  attention  and  seemi 
gazing  into  vacancy.^  The  Chorus  endorses  Clytaemnestra's  advice.  A{ 
length  it  occurs  to  Clytaemnestra  that  Cassandra  cannot  speak  Greek,  and  she 
bids  her  give  some  sign.  [No  sign^  but  a  shudder  convulses  her  fra?ne. 
Thinking  she  is  obstinate  Clytaemnestra  will  wait  no  longer  [exit  Clyt.  inti 
Palace  to  the  sacrifice^  The  Chorus  renew  their  advice  to  Cassandraj 
She  at  length  leaves  the  chariot  and  suddenly  bursts  into  a  cry  of  horror.  103] 

Then  follows,  marking  the  crisis  of  the  drama,  a  burst  of  lyrical  exeitemenf 
The  dialogue  between  Chorus  and  Cassandra  falls  into  lyrical  strophes 
antistrophes  :  Cassandra,  by  her  prophetic  gift,  can  see  all  that  is  going  on 
about  to  be  consummated  within  the  Palace.     Her  wailings  reproach] 
patron  and  lover  Apollo,  who  has  conducted  her  to  a  house  of  blood  ;| 
sees  the  past  murders  that  have  stained  the  house,  she  sees  the  preparati 
for  the  present  deed,  the  bath,  the  net,  the  axe ;  then  her  wailings  wax  | 
wilder  as  she  sees  that  she  herself  is  to  be  included  in  the  sacrifice.     M'^' 
time  her  excitement  gradually  passes  over  to  the  Chorus :  at  first  they  * 
mistaken  her  cries  for  the  ordinary  lamentations  of  captives  (and  borne 
part  in  the  dialogue  in  the  ordinary  *  blank  verse') ;  then  their  emotionj 
roused  (and  their  speech  falls  into  lyrics)  as  they  recognize  the  old 
the  family  history  and  remember  Cassandra's  prophetic  fame ;  as  si 
to  the  deed  going  on  at  the  moment  they  feel  a  thrill  of  horror,  but  or] 
understand  and  take  her  words  for  prophecy  of  distant  events,  whi< 
connect  with  their  own  forebodings ;  thus  in  her  struggles  to  get  hei 
believed  Cassandra  becomes  more  and  more  graphic  in  her  notices] 
scene  her  mental  eye  is  seeing,  and  the  excitement  crescendoes  until 

As    if   the  crisis    were    now   determined^jtfBM||logue    settle^J 
into    'blank    verse'    again.      Cassandra  i^^^^^^^^Qrchestra 
She  will  no  longer  speak  veiled  prophec^^^^^^^^^^^^lk  wa-' 
the   sunlight.     She    begins  with  the 
since    that    primal    woe    that    defilec 
Chorus  wonder  an  alien  can  know  the 


its  them  know  of  her  amour  with  Apollo,  and  how  she  gained  the  gift  of 
tophecy  and  then  deceived  the  God  and  was  doomed  to  have  her  prophecies 
lomed.— Continuing  her  vision  she  points  to  the  phantom  children,  *  their 
lalms  filled  full  with  meat  of  their  own  flesh,'  sitting  on  the  house  :  in  re- 
enge  for  that  deed  another  crime  is  this  moment  about  to  stain  further 
le  polluted  dwelling,  a  brave  hero  falling  at  the  hands  of  a  coward,  and 
Jy  a  plot  his  monster  of  a  wife  has  contrived. — The  Chorus  still  perplexed, 
yassandra  names  Agamemnon,  the  Chorus  essaying  vainly  to  stop  the  ill- 
ated  utterance. — Then  Cassandra  goes  on  to  describe  how  she  herself  must 
be  sacrificed  with  her  new  lord,  a  victim  to  the  jealous  murderess ;  bitterly 
leproaching  Apollo,  she  strips  from  her  the  symbols  and  garb  of  her  pro- 
3hetic  art,  which  the  god  has  made  so  bitter  to  her,  and  moves   to  the 
butcher's  block,'  foretelling  how  the  Son  shall  come  as  his  father's  avenger 
ind  hers. — The  Chorus  ask,  why  go  to  meet  your  fate  instead  of  escaping  ? 
^assandra  knows  Fate  is  inevitable.— Again  and  again  she  shrinks  back 
from  the  door,  *  tainted  with  the  scent  of  death;'  then  gazing  for  the  last 
Itime  on  the  loved  rays  of  the  Sun,  and  invoking  him  as  witness  and  avenger, 
She  abandons  herself  to  her  doom. 

Ah,  life  of  man  1  when  most  it  prospereth,  1298 

It  is  but  limned  in  outline ;  and  when  brought 
To  low  estate,  then  doth  the  sponge,  full  soaked, 
Wipe  out  the  picture  with  its  frequent  touch. 

[Passes  through  the  Central  Door  into  Palace.'\ 

The  Chorus  {in  lyrical  rhythm).    ,  It  is  true  good  fortune  can  never  be 
'fended  from  the  visitation  of  evil,  which  no  strong  palace  can  bar  out. 
What  will  it  avail  Agamemnon  to  have  taken  Troy  and  come  in  honor 
home,  if  it  be  really  his  destiny  to  pay  the  penalty  of  that  old  deed  of  blood- 
guiltiness  ?  131 J 

(Here  a  loud  cry  is  heard  from  within  the  Palace^ 

The  Chorus  recognize  the  voice  of  the  King,  and  fear  the  deed  is  accom- 
plished. In  extreme  excitement  the  Chorus  break  up,  and  each  member,  one 
after  another,  suggests  what  is  to  be  done  ;  at  last  they  compose  their  ranks 
to  learn  what  has  actually  occurred.  1342 

Suddenly,  by  the  machinery  of  the  Roller-stage  [Eccyclema\  the  interior  of 
the  Palace  is  moved  to  the  front  of  the  Stage,  and  discovers  Clytaemnestra  in 
blood-stained  robes,  standing  with  attendants  by  the  corpses  of  Agamemnon  and 
Cassandra,  the  former  lying  in  a  silvered  bath  covered  with  a  net. 

Clytcemnestra,  in  an  elaborate  speech,  glories  in  her  deed.  Deceit  was 
necessary  in  dealing  with  foes :  now  standing  where  she  did  the  deed,  she 
glories  in  it:  glories  in  the  net  in  which  she  entangled  and  rendered  him 
powerless,  in  the  blows,  one,  two,  three,  like  a  libation,  which  she  struck, 
glories  in  the  gush  of  death-blood  which  has  bespattered  her.  A  late 
triumph  :  he  had  come  home  to  drain  the  goblet  of  curses  his  old  deed  had 
been  long  heaping  up.  After  an  interruption  of  astonishment  from  the 
Foreman,  she  repeats :  it  is  the  handiwork  of  my  artist  hand.  After  the 
Chorus  have  recovered  from  their  astonishment  they  {in  a  lyrical  burst)  de- 
nounce her:  her  confession  is  the  incense  on  the  Victim's  head,  she  shall 
feel  the  people's  strong  hate,  and  have  an  exile's  doom.  Clyt.  {calmly 
in  Blank  Verse) :  they  denounced  no  such  exile  against  Agamemnon  when 
he  sacrificed  her  daughter,  the  first  of  her  travail  pangs.  Besides,  are 
they  sure  they  are  the  stronger  ?  Perchance,  though  old,  they  may  yet 
have  to  learn.  Chorus  {in  a  similar  lyrical  burst)  :  she  is  now  maddened 
with  the  spirit  of  vengeance,  but  she  will  one  day  find  a  nemesis,  blow  for 


/ 


i8 

blow.  Clyt.  solemnly  {in  Blank  Verse)  swears  by  the  deed  she  has  doi 
and  the  curse  for  which  she  did  it,  she  has  no  fear  of  Nemesis,  as  long] 
iEgisthus  is  her  shield.  Meanwhile,  there  they  lie :  the  wife-wronger  -■ 
his  mistress.  ^' 

Then  follows  an  elaborate  lyrical  scene :  the  Chorus  giving  vent  to  th] 
excitement  in  Strophes  and  Antistrophes  irregularly  succeeding  one  anoth\ 
Clytcemnestra  occasionally  joining  in.     O   for  death,  sudden  and  withd 
lingering,  now  that  our  beloved  Protector  is  gone !     Ah !  Helen  !  one  moj 
deed  of  woe  to  your  account !     Clyt.  No  need  to  wish  for  death  or  upbraj 
Helen.     Cho.  (interrupting)  O  dread  Power  that  dost  attack  this  householj 
working  even  through  women  deeds  of  dread !     Clyt.  Now  thou  art  righl 
it  is  the  Evil  Genius  of  the  House  that  feeds  in  their  hearts  the  lust  of  blooc' 
bringing  fresh  blood-guilt  ere  the  old  is  healed.      Cho.     Yes,  there  is 
Power  wrathful  to  the  House ;  but  it  must  be  through  Zeus  he  works ;  wh^ 
amongst  mortal  men  is  wrought  apart  from  Zeus  ? 

Ah  me  !    Ah  me !  14^1 

My  king,  my  king,  how  shall  I  weep  for  thee  ? 
What  shall  I  speak  from  heart  that  truly  loves  ? 
And  now  thou  liest  there,  breathing  out  thy  life. 

In  impious  deed  of  death. 

In  this  fell  spider's  web  ! 

Yes  woe  is  me !  woe,  woe ! 
"Woe  for  this  couch  of  thine  unhonorable  ! 

Slain  by  a  subtle  death 
With  sword  two-edged,  which  her  right  hand  did  wield. 

Clyt.    You  speak  of  me  as  the  doer :  it  was  the  Avenger  of  the  seed  o\ 
Atreus  who  did  the  deed  in  the  semblance  of  this  dead  man's  wife.     Cho. 
None  will  hold  thee  guiltless  of  the  deed ;  yet,  perchance,  thou  mayest  hav< 
had  as  helper  the  avenging  Fiend  of  that  ancestral  time :  he  presses  on  thij 
rush  of  murders  of  near  kin. 

Ah  me !    Ah  me  I  I492< 

My  king,  my  king,  how  shall  I  weep  for  thee  ? 
What  shall  I  speak  from  heart  that  truly  loves  ? 
And  now  thou  liest  there,  breathing  out  thy  life, 
In  impious  deed  of  death. 
In  this  fell  spider's  web ! 
Yes  woe  is  me !  woe,  woe ! 
Woe  for  this  couch  of  thine  unhonorable  I 

Slain  by  a  subtle  death 
With  sword  two-edged,  which  her  right  hand  did  wield. 

Clyt.  This  deed  brings  no  dishonor  to  me :  he  slew  my  daughter  and 
his  own,  wept  over  with  many  a  tear;  now  slain  in  recompense  he  is 
gone  to  Hell  with  nothing  to  boast  over.  Cho.  Whither  escape  from  this 
House  ?  no  longer  drops,  but  fierce  pelting  storm  of  blood  shakes  it  to  its 
basement.  Cho.  Oh  that  earth  had  received  me  ere  I  saw  this  sad  sight  I 
Who  will  perform  funeral  rites  and  chant  the  dirge?  Wilt  thou  who 
hast  slain  dare  to  mourn  him  }—Clyt.  It  is  no  care  of  thine :  we  will  give 
him  burial ;  and  for  mourning— perhaps  Iphigenia  will  greet  him  kindly  by 
the  dark  streams  below.— C^o.  Hard  it  is  to  judge  ;  the  hand  of  Zeus  is  in 
all  this;  ever  throughout  this  household  we  see  the  fixed  law,  the  spoiler 
still  is  spoiled.  Who  will  drive  out  from  this  royal  house  this  brood  of 
curses  dark  ?  Clyt.  Thou  art  right ;  but  here  let  the  demon  rest  content; 
suffice  it  for  me  that  my  hand  has  freed  the  house  from  the  madness  that 
sets  each  man's  hand  against  each.     [Observe  :  in  this  last  infatuated  confi- 


>> 


/ 


19 

dence  and  throughout  Clytaemnestra's  exultation  in  the  deed  the  dramatist 
is  laying  the  foundation  for  the  second  play  of  the  Trilogy.]  1554 

Enter  ^gisthus  by  one  of  the  two  Inferior  doors  in  front  of  the  scent 
[representing  the  inferior  parts  of  the  Palace  in  which  he  has  been 
concealed  since  the  return  of  Agamemnon]. 

yEgisthus  salutes  the  happy  day  of  vengeance  which  shows  him  Agamem- 
non paying  penalty  for  the  deeds  of  his  father :  he  relates  the  quarrel 
between  this  father  Atreus  and  his  own  father  Thyestes,  how  when  the  one 
brother  came  as  suppliant  to  the  other  Atreus  spread  before  him  the  horrid 
banquet  of  his  own  child's  flesh,  at  the  knowledge  of  which  he  died. 
i/Egisthus  himself  had  suffered  banishment  at  the  hands  of  Atreus  while 
yet  a  child,  and  now  has  returned  full  grown  to  work  vengeance  on  the  son 
of  his  wronger,  to  see  the  long  contrived  nemesis  brought  to  full  conclu- 
slion. — Chorus  note  that  he  confesses  the  deed,  and  he  shall  not  escape  the 
righteous  curse  a  people  hurls  with  stones. — ^g.  Know  your  place:  you 
£tre  oarsman,  we  command  the  ship  ;  prison  and  fasting  are  admirable  de- 
Vices  for  helping  old  people  to  keep  their  tempers  within  bounds.  Defiances 
are  interchanged :  the  Chorus  taunting  him  that  he  had  to  get  a  woman  to 
do  the  deed  he  dared  not  do  himself;  ^g.  contemptuously  says  the  work- 
ing out  ui  the  fraud  was  the  proper  province  of  a  woman,  especially  as  he  was 
a  'mown  foe. — The  Chorus  threaten  vengeance  and  suggest  the  name 
*  xESTES  as  avenger:  At  this  Clytaemnestra  starts,  ^gisthus  enraged 
I,  ves  the  signal  at  which  1626 

'  Bodyguard  of/Egisthus  pour  in  through  both  the  Inferior  doors  on  either 
side  of  the  Central  door  of  the  Palace^  and  fill  the  stage  [thus  producing 
one  of  the  Scenic  Tableaux  of  which  j^schylus  was  fond].  The  Chorus  ^ 
though  of  course  outnumbered^  are  nothing  daunted^  as  representing 
the  legitimate  authority  of  the  State  now  Agamemnon  is  dead^  and 
therefore  sure  to  be  backed  by  the  City;  they  make  as  if  to  ascend  the 
stage. 

Contest  in  blows  between  Chorus  and  Bodyguard  of  itgisthus  appears  in- 
evitable, but  Clytaemnestra  throws  herself  between  them,  urges  that  enough 
i!ll  has  already  been  done,  and  after  further  defiances,  forces  /Egisthus  away 
Und  play  abruptly  terminates :  the  Chorus  returning  to  the  Right  into  the 
Cify,  and  the  Bodyguard  into  the  Palace, 


] 


..y 


SECOND  PLAY :     MID - DAY : 

THE  SEPULCHRAL   RITES 

{CHOEPHORI) 


PROLOGUE 

The  Permanent  Scene,  as  before,  represents  the  Palace  of  Agamemnon  1 1 
Argos.  The  only  difference  is  that  the  place  of  the  Thymele  in  the  centiu 
of  the  Orchestra  is  taken  up  by  Agamemnon's  Sepulchre.  Enter  by  tt^e 
Left  Side-door  {signifying  distance)  Orestes  and  Pylades,  and  descending 
the  Orchestra-staircase  advance  to  the  Sepulchre. 

Orestes,  invoking  the  Conductor  of  the  Dead,  lays  locks  of  hair  and  frag- 
ments of  garments  as  offerings  on  his  Father's  tomb,  cut  off  ac  be  had  been 
by  exile  from  being  present  at  the  actual  Funeral-rites : 

He  is  interrupted  by  the  opening  of  one  of  the  Inferior  Doors  of  the  j.  -^ 
out  of  which  comes  Electra  and  a  train  of  Trojan  Captive-maidens  t 
ing  urns  of  libations,  all  with  dishevelled  hair  and  the  well-known  gi 
ures  proper  to  Sepulchral  rites.  They  descend  {with  the  exception  of  Eler.- 
tra)  the  Orchestra-staircase,  and  perform  a  Choral  Ode  with  funeral 
rhythm  and  gestures.  Orestes  and  Pylades,  recognizing  them,  stand 
aside.  ^9 


SEPULCHRAL  ODE  AS  CHORUS-ENTRY 
in  three  Strophes,  Antistrophes,  and  an  Epode, 


\ 


describes  in  words  the  tearings  of  cheeks,  rending  of  garments,  and  groan$, 
which  are  actually  the  gestures  of  their  dance,  and  are  proper  to  a  Sepul- 
chral rite  such  as  they  have  been  sent  to  perform  by  their  Queen,  terrified  as 
she  has  been  by  a  dream  the  night  before,  a  dream  signifying  how  the  Dead 
were  wroth  with  those  that  slew  them.  But  the  Chorus  like  not  this  grace- 
less deed  of  grace  :  what  ransom  can  be  found  for  the  overthrow  of  the  lord 
of  a  house  ?  with  him  Awe  has  been  overthrown,  and  Fear  takes  its  place,  or 
yet  more  Success  is  God.  53 

Yet  stroke  of  Vengeance  swift 

Smites  some  in  life's  clear  day ; 
For  some  who  tarry  long  their  sorrows  wait 
In  twilight  dim,  on  darkness'  borderland ; 

And  some  an  endless  night 

Of  nothingness  holds  fast. 

Yes :  for  blood  once  spilt,  for  the  marriage  tie  defiled,  there  is  no  remedy— 
yet  the  Chorus  must,  as  part  of  their  bitter  captive  lot,  perform  the  rite 
they  have  no  heart  in.  75 

Through  this  Ode  Electra,  who  ought  to  have  taken  the  lead,  has  stood  on 
the  stage  irresolute  :  she  now  addresses  the  Chorus,  who  at  her  word  fall 
into  their  Episode  positions. 


\ 


I 


\ 


21 


EPISODE  I 


Electra  puts  to  the  Chorus  the  same  difficulty  they  have  been  feeling : 

What  shall  I  say  as  these  funereal  gifts 

I  pour  ?     How  shall  I  speak  acceptably  ? 

How  to  my  father  pray  ?     What  ?  shall  I  say 

"  I  bring  from  loving  wife  to  husband  loved 

Gifts  "  —  from  my  mother  ?    No,  I  am  not  bold 

Enough  for  that,  nor  know  I  what  to  speak, 

Pouring  this  chrism  on  my  father's  tomb : 

Or  shall  I  say  this  prayer,  as  men  are  wont, 

"  Good  recompense  make  thou  to  those  who  bring 

These  garlands,"  yea,  a  gift  full  well  deserved 

By  deeds  of  ill  ?     Or  dumb,  with  ignominy 

Like  that  with  which  he  perished,  shall  I  pour 

Libations  on  the  earth,  and  like  a  man 

That  flings  away  the  lustral  filth,  shall  I 

Throw  down  the  urn  and  walk  with  eyes  not  turned  ? 


97 


The  Chorus-Leader  breaking  ranks  to  lay  her  hand  on  the  Sepulchre  as  sign 
of  fidelity,  advises  to  throw  off  all  disguise  and  pray  boldly  for  friend  and 
against  foes.  Electra  in  this  sense  offers  the  Prayer:  setting  forth  the 
wrongs  of  the  house  and  praying  for  Orestes  and  Vengeance ;  then  calling 
on  the  Chorus  for  a  Sepulchral  Song  she  descends  to  the  tomb.  144 

Sepulchral  Paan  of  short  Strophe  and  Antistrophe  :  for  these  libations* 
sake  may  the  curse  be  averted — yet  who  strong  enough  to  come  as 
Averter  :  while  Electra  is  pouring  the  libations  on  the  tomb,  157 

Electra  returns  to  Stage,  her  whole  manner  changed :  as  if  the  prayer  had 
already  begun  to  be  fulfilled,  she  has  found  the  mysterious  locks  which,  she 
bit  by  bit  lets  out,  must  be  those  of  Orestes— M^  Chorus,  like  sailors  in  a 
storm,  can  only  invoke  the  gods  :  if  the  day  has  come,  from  a  small  seed  a 
mighty  trunk  may  grow  — Electra  then  discovers  foot-prints  {as  if  leading 
from  the  Side  Stage-door  to  the  Orchestra-staircase"]  of  two  travelers ;  one 
foot-print  agrees  with  her  brother's :  203 

Orestes  and  Pylades  come  forward :  recognition  and  joy,  Electra  hardly 
believing.    She  addresses  him  by  four- fold  name :  as  father  dear. 
The  love  I  owe  my  mother  turns  to  thee, 
My  sister's  too  that  ruthlessly  was  slain. 
And  thou  wast  ever  faithful  brother  found. 

Orestes  compares  his  family  to  an  eagle's  brood  orphaned  by  the  spoiler. 
Electra  catching  at  the  omen  of  eagle,  dear  bird  of  Zeus  who  will  avenge 
his  own  — Chorus  are  afraid  that  their  noisy  joy  may  be  overheard  and  ruin 
all  —  Orestes  has  no  fear  of  ruin  after  the  strong  oracles  of  Apollo  that  bade 
him  come  under  terrible  penalties  if  he  disobeyed  :  261 

Leprous  sores  tliat  creep 

All  o'er  the  flesh,  and  as  with  cruel  jaws 

Eat  out  its  ancient  nature,  and  white  hairs 

On  that  foul  ill  to  supervene :  and  still 

He  spake  of  other  onsets  of  the  Erinnyes, 

As  brought  to  issue  from  a  father's  blood ; 
^  For  the  dark  weapon  of  the  Gods  below 

Winged  by  our  kindred  that  lie  low  in  death. 

And  beg  for  vengeance,  yea,  and  madness  too, 
I  And  vague,  dim  fears  at  night  disturb  and  haunt  me, 


f 


22 


Seeing  full  clearly,  though  I  move  my  brow 

In  the  tliick  darkness     ....     and  that  then  my  frame 

Thus  tortured  should  be  driven  from  the  city 

With  brass-knobbed  scourge  :  and  that  for  such  as  I 

It  was  not  given  to  share  the  wine-cup's  taste. 

Nor  votive  stream  in  pure  libation  poured  ; 

And  that  my  father's  wrath  invisible 

Would  drive  me  from  all  altars,  and  that  none 

Should  take  me  in  or  lodge  with  me  :  at  last. 

That  loathed  of  all  and  friendless  I  should  die, 

A  wretched  mummy,  all  my  strength  consumed. 

Must  I  not  trust  such  oracles  as  these  ?  297 

The  Chorus^  breaking  into  lyrics^  feel  that  Justice  has  at  last  taken  their 
side  :  then  follows  an  elaborate 

KOMMOS  OR  LYRIC  CONCERTO 

by  Orestes y  Electra  and  Chorus ^  in  highly  intricate  and  interwoven 
Strophes  and  Antistrophes,  with  funereal  gesture.  The  jaws  of  flame  do 
not  reduce  the  corpse  to  senselessness;  they  can  hear  below  this  our 
Rite  and  will  send  answer  —  what  a  fate  was  Agamemnon's,  not  that 
of  the  warrior  who  dies  leaving  high  fame  at  home  and  laying  strong 
and  sure  his  children's  paths  in  life,  but  to  be  struck  down  by  hia  own 
kin !  But  there  is  a  sense  of  Vengeance  being  at  hand,  Erinnys  and 
the  Curses  of  the  slain ;  they  make  the  heart  quiver :  the  Dir^e  cres- 
cendoes till  it  breaks  into  the  *  Arian  rhythm^  a  foreign  funeral  rhythm 
with  violent  gestures  {proper  to  the  Chorus  as  Asiatics);  and  so  as  a 
climax  breaks  up  into  two  semi-choruses  :  one  sings  of  woCy  thf  other  of 
vengeance^  and  then  the  formal  Dirge  terminates  and  the  Blank  verse 
recommences.  469 

In  a  composed  frame  (and  in  Blank  Verse)  Orestes  and  Electra  repeat  the 
distinct  prayer  for  Vengeance  and  the  death  of  A^gisthut  and  then  addrcM 
themselves  to  the  means.  Orestes  enquires  an  to  the  manning  of  the  Sepul- 
chral-rites, and  the  dream  is  narrated,  which  he  interprets  as  good  omen. 


\ 


Orest.  And  have  ye  learnt  the  dream,  to  tell  it  right  ? 

Chor.   As  she  doth  say,  she  thought  she  bare  a  snake. 

Orest.  How  ends  the  tale,  and  what  its  outcome  then  ? 

Ch&r.   She  nursed  it,  like  a  child,  in  swaddling  clothes. 

Orest,  What  food  did  the  young  monster  crave  for  then  ? 

Char,  She  in  her  dream  her  bosom  gave  to  it. 

Orest,  How  'scaped  her  breast  by  that  dread  bca*t  unhurt  ? 

Chor.  Nay,  with  the  milk  it  sucked  out  clots  of  blood. 

Orest.  Ah,  not  in  vain  comes  this  dream  from  her  lord. 

Chor.  She,  roused  from  sleep,  cries  out  uU  tcrriHcd, 

And  many  torches  that  were  quenched  in  gloom 
Blazed  for  our  Mistress'  sake  witliin  the  house. 
Then  these  libations  for  the  dead  she  sends. 
Hoping  they'll  prove  good  medicine  of  ills. 

Orest.  Now  to  earth  here,  and  my  sire's  tomb  I  pray, 
They  leave  not  this  strange  vision  unfultilled. 
So  I  expound  it  that  it  all  coheres ; 
For  if,  the  self-same  spot  that  I  left  leaving. 
The  snake  was  then  wrapt  in  my  swaddling  clothes, 
And  sucked  the  very  breast  that  nourlMhrd  mc, 
Aa4  ott^d  the  iv^t  milk  v»ith  a  dot  ci  t«>>xi» 


5'7 


23 

And  she  in  terror  wailed  the  strange  event. 

So  must  she,  as  that  monster  dread  she  nourished, 

Die  cruel  death  :  and  I,  thus  serpentised. 

Am  here  to  slay  her,  as  this  dream  portends  ; 

I  take  thee  as  mydream-mterprcter. 

They  rapidly  arrange  their  plan  to  appear  as  Foreigners,  and  get  admission 
to  the  Palace,  or,  if  yEgisthus  come  out,  strike  him  down  at  once—with  a 
prayer  to  Apollo  exeunt  Electra^  Orestes^  and  Pylades  by  the  Distance  Side- 
door,  575 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  I 
in  four  Strophes  and  Antistrophes. 

Monsters  and  woes  are  many,  but  most  terrible  of  all  is  a  passion-driven 
woman :  Thestias,  who  burnt  out  the  mystic  brand  that  measured  her  son's 
Ufe;  Scylla,  who  robbed  her  father  of  his  life-charm;  another — but  the 
woman  who  slew  her  warrior-chief  it  is  meet  for  me  to  pass  over  in  silence. 
Then  there  is  the  great  Lemnian  Crime,  foremost  of  all  crimes :  yet  this 
might  well  be  compared  to  it ;  and  as  that  race  perished,  so  is  judgment  at 
hand  here ;  the  anvil-block  of  Vengeance  firm  is  set,  and  Fate  is  swordsmith 
hammering ;  in  due  time  the  debt  of  guilt  is  paid.  639 

EPISODE  II 

Enter  by  (hf  Dixfan/t  Sidt  ximr  Ortites,  P^fiodi$»  ond  aUendantr,  and 
advance  to  the  Central  JSbttT. 

Orestes  calls  loudly  for  »l»U»ioa^  lelUttg  the  slave  vho  opens  tb&t  h«  is  » 
traveller,  and  muxl  <lo  hi>  wcukge  to  those  witbm  rrc  mglA  fall*;  iomltdy 
if  a  lady  rules,  though  a  kffd  is  seemlier.  Enter  CfytamMejtrv,  wiio  gives  » 
formal  offer  of  hospitality  (havii^MCkedhis  irTe\'ere«l  loo«K  »»«*  '^  whftia 
he  bluffly  givcH  a  mes&iJte  trom  n  fellow  tnn^llrr^  who  le^irning  he  was 
bound  for  Argos,  beggjed  him  to  »««k  out  Orestes*  kisomen  9aA  ^ive  tlw 
newK  of  his  death.  Cfy^if9tnt$/ria  nflects  a  borrt  ol  gMi  the  em«e  h*s 
taken  another  victim  as  he  wis  diit1iPi;ling  bssiNcIf  from  the  net.  Ortsfrs 
regrets  he  cannot  hope  kur  the  wrJcrtmc  ol  those  who  bc«r  good  newt« 
Clyttrmnextra  (with  a  dial  feeling  of  sospicicn)  «nur(»  Wm  he  »hall  want  for 
nothing  'that  is  fitting/  orders Ort^te*  to  l>r  kd  oobc  way, and  the  rest  an- 
other, and  goes  to  cxil  .-K^jMhus  'and  friexds.*  Extunt  Ciy^'^v^nairm  kj 
/.fft  Inferior  Door  to  the  IViX^m's  Ouarferr^  OretUt  and  PtrUr  ikrtttgk  Cen- 
tral and  Pylades,  «tc,,thr;sugk  Right  Inferior  Dmr.  Ck&ruu  in  mitrfkini: 
rhythm,  catch  the  touch  ol  suspense,  ojui  invoke  Hermes  sad  the  Spirit  cA 
PcrHuaMion  for  Orestes.  7^0 

Enter  from  Women^t  QuarUrs,  CUtiiM,  Orestes'  NorKi  bsdkka  to  »c<k 
/RgisthuH,  iiM  the  straiixer  t>x>ks  like  one  XDCsning  ti>  cook  wmtt  IH.  She  is 
in  tears  at  the  death  of  hfr  Ixiy,  stxS  details  all  the  p*tty  €«l«S  ibe  bad  over 

his  helpless  infancy,  and  how  they  are  now  allpcofitlcs». 

Chor.    And  how  ef|iU|ipffU  then  doib  she  bid  him  come?  JS3 

Nurse,  How?    Spe^  mAn  that  I  may  belter  leasn. 

Chor.    liy  spearmen  fowyvred^  cc  himsell  alone? 

Nurse,  She  bidtt  hi»  bring  hts  gviifds  with  lances  armed. 

Chor,    Nay,  say  not  tbu  to  hiei  thr  kmi  doth  hute. 
But  bid  him  '  ooom  sloae,*  (thet  so  he  bear 
Without  olonnX  'full  speed,  with  joyoas  mind,' 
Since  *  seciet  moch  ^-ith  aesKuger  goes  bcSL' 

Nurse,  And  art  thou  ol  good  eheer  at  this  iit  tale? 

Chor,    But  what  if  Zeus  wUl  turn  the  tad*  C8  ill? 


24 


Nurse.  How  so?    Orestes,  our  one  hope  is  gone. 
Chor.    Not  yet;  a  sorry  seer  might  know  thus  much. 
Nurse.  What  say'st  thou?    Know'st  thou  aught  besides  my  tale? 
Chor.    Go  tell  thy  message ;  do  thine  errand  well: 

The  Gods  for  what  they  care  for,  care  enough. 
Nurse.  I  then  will  go,  complying  with  thy  words : 

May  all,  by  God's  gift,  end  most  happilyl  7o9 

Exit  Nurse  by  Right  Side  Door,  signifying  neighborhood. 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  II 
in  four  interwoven  Strophes  and  Antistrophes,  with  Mesode, 

invokes  the  Gods  the  house  had  worshipped.  Zeus,  Father  of  the  Gods,  the 
twin-brothers,  Apollo  in  his  glorious  shrine  at  Delphi,  Hermes  who  is  the 
conductor  of  enterprises :  the  dear  son  of  the  house  is  harnessed  to  the  car 
of  calamity,  moderate  its  pace— and  may  Murder  cease  to  breed  new  Mur- 
der. But  the  Avenger,  like  Perseus,  must  not  look  on  the  deed  as  he  does 
it;  as  she  calls  the  name  Mother  let  him  hurl  back  the  cry  of  Father.       820 

EPISODE  III 

yEgisthus  entering  from  the  Right  Side  Door  {of  Neighborhood)  speaks  of 
this  summons ;  it  may  after  all  be  women's  fears  '  that  leap  up  high  and 
die  away  to  nought.'  The  Chorus  say  there  is  nothing  like  asking,  ^eg. 
will  do  so :  they  cannot  cheat  a  man  with  his  eyes  open.  Exit  through  Cen- 
tral Door.  839 

Chorus,  in  short  lyric  burst,  mark  critical  moment  that  decides  success  or 
failure.  853 

Then  cries  from  within,  and  Porter  rushes  from  Central  Door  to  Door  of 
Women's  Quarters  {Left  Inferior),  loudly  summoning  Clytaemnestra,  and 
when  she  appears  informs  her  *  the  dead  are  slaying  the  living.'  She  sees 
in  a  moment  the  truth,  and  is  looking  hurriedly  for  aid,  when  enter,  from 
Central  Door,  Orestts Joined  at  once  by  Py lades  and  Attendants,  from  Right 
Inferior. 

Orest.     'Tisthee  I  seek :  he  there  has  had  enough.  878 

Clytctm.  Ah  me  I  my  loved  iEgisthus  1  Art  thou  dead  ? 
Orest.      Lov'st  the  man  ?    Then  in  the  self-same  tomb 

Shalt  thou  now  lie,  nor  in  his  death  desert  him. 
Qytcem.  [baring  her  bosom]  Hold,  boy!  Respect  this  breast  of  mine, 
my  son. 

Whence  thou  full  oft,  asleep,  with  toothless  gums. 

Hast  sucked  the  milk  that  sweetly  fed  thy  life. 
Orest.    What  shall  I  do,  my  Pylades?     Shall  I 

Through  this  respect  forbear  to  slay  my  mother  ? 
i>/.       Where,  then,  are  Loxias'  other  oracles. 

The  Pythian  counsels,  and  the  fast-sworn  vows  ? 

Have  all  men  hostile  rather  than  the  gods. 
Orest.    My  judgment  goes  with  thine ;  thou  speakest  well. 

[To  Clytamnestra.]     Follow :  I  mean  to  slay  thee  where  he  lies, 

For  while  he  lived  thou  held'st  him  far  above 

My  father.     Sleep  thou  with  him  in  thy  death. 

Since  thou  lov'st  him,  and  whom  thou  should'st  love  hatcst. 
Clytam.  I  reared  thee,  and  would  fain  grow  old  with  thee. 
Orest.     What !    Thou  live  with  me,  who  did'st  slay  my  father? 
Clytam.  Fate,  O  my  son,  must  share  the  blame  of  that. 
Orest.    This  fatal  doom,  then,  it  is  Fate  that  sends. 


25 


Clytam.  Dost  thou  not  fear  a  parent's  curse,  my  son  ? 

Orest.      Thou,  though  my  mother,  did'st  to  ill  chance  cast  me. 

Clytam.  No  outcast  thou  so  sent  to  house  allied. 

Orest.     I  was  sold  doubly,  though  of  free  sire  bom. 

Clytam.  Where  is  the  price,  then,  that  I  got  for  thee  ? 

Orest.     I  shrink   for  shame  from  pressing  that  charge  home. 

Clytam.  Nay,  tell  thy  father's  wantonness  as  well. 

Orest.      Blame  not  the  man  that  toils  when  thou'rt  at  ease. 

Clytam.  'Tis  hard,  my  son,  for  wives  to  miss  their  husband. 

Orest.      The  husband's  toil  keeps  her  that  sits  at  home. 

Clytam.  Thou  seem'st,  my  son,  about  to  slay  thy  mother. 

Orest.      It  is  not  I  that  slay  thee,  but  thyself. 

Clytam.  Take  heed,  beware  a  mother's  vengeful  hounds. 

Orest.      How,  slighting  this,  shall  I  escape  my  father's  ? 

Clytam.  I  seem  in  life  to  wail  as  to  a  tomb. 

Orest.      My  father's  fate  ordains  this  doom  for  thee. 

Clytam.  Ah  me  !  The  snake  is  here  I  bare  and  nursed. 

Orest.  An  o'er-true  prophet  was  that  dread  dream-bom. 
Thou  slewest  one  thou  never  should'st  have  slain. 
Now  suffer  fate  should  never  have  been  thine. 


916 


Exeunt  Orestes  and  Pylades,  forcing  Clytamnestra  through  the  Central 
Door,  their  attendants  remaining  to  guard  the  door.  Chorus^  after  a 
word  of  pity  for  even  this  *  twain  mischance,*  break  into 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  III 

in  three  interwoven  Strophes  and  Antistrophes, 

Late  came  vengeance  on  Troy,  late  now  has  it  blest  this  heaven-sent  exile, 
and  our  Master's  house  is  freed.  On  a  lover  of  the  war  of  guile  has  Re- 
venge come  subtle-souled.  Vengeance  who 

Is  guileful  without  guile, 
Halting  of  foot  and  tarrying  over-long ; 
The  will  of  Gods  is  strangely  over-ruled, 

It  may  not  help  the  vile. 

At  last  we  see  the  light.  All-working  Time  with  cleansing  rites  will  purify 
the  house ;  Fortune's  throws  shall  fall  with  gladsome  cast :  at  last  we  see 
the  light.  959 

EXODUS  OR  FINALE 

Enter  from  Main  Door  Orestes  and  Pylades,  their  Attendants  bearing  the 
Corpses,  and  the  net  in  which  Agamemnon  had  been  murdered. 

Orestes  solemnly  declares  that  they  have  perished  as  murderers;  they 
swore  to  live  and  die  together  and  they  have  kept  the  oath.  He  bids  the 
Attendants  stretch  out  in  full  light  of  the  Sun,  the  great  Purifier,  the  fatal 
net,  as  pledge  that  he  did  his  dread  deed  only  as  deed  of  necessary  ven- 
geance— he  dwells  on  the  cmel  device — but  Chorus  seeing  side  by  side  the 
net  and  the  slaughter  by  which  it  has  been  avenged,  can  think  of  nothing 
but  the  woe  which  its  avenger  by  his  deed  of  vengeance  must  bring  on 
himself.  Orestes  reiterates  the  crime  of  which  this  deed  is  the  reminder. 
The  Chorus  cannot  help  repeating  the  unhappy  omen.  1009 

At  this  very  moment  Orestes  changes  and  begins  to  feel  the  oncoming 
madness — while  reason  yet  stays  with  him  he  repeats  his  innocence  and 
puts  on  the  suppliant's  fillet,  with  which  he  will  go  to  Delphi,  and  challenge 
the  God  who  sent  him  on  the  errand  to  free  him  from  its  dire  consequences. 
Madness  increases,  and  he  can  see  the  Furies  in  bodily  shape  dark-robed. 


26 


and  all  their  long  tresses  entwined  with  serpents.  In  rapid  dialogue  the 
Chorus  bid  him  cling  to  the  idea  of  Apollo,  and  he  bursts  away  through 
Distance  Door  on  Left  to  commence  his  long  career  of  wanderings.  The 
Chorus  conclude : 

Here,  then,  upon  this  palace  of  our  kings 

A  third  storm  blows  again ; 
The  blast  that  haunts  the  race  has  run  its  course. 
First  came  the  wretched  meal  of  children's  flesh ; 

Next  what  befel  our  king  : 
Slain  in  the  bath  was  he  who  ruled  our  host, 

Of  all  the  Achseans  lord  ; 
And  now  a  third  has  come,  we  know  not  whence, 

To  save     ...     or  shall  I  say. 

To  work  a  doom  of  death  ? 
Where  will  it  end?    Where  will  it  cease  at  last. 

The  mighty  Ate  dread. 

Lulled  into  slumber  deep? 


27 


THIRD    PLAY:     AFTERNOON: 


THE  GENTLE  GODDESSES 

EUMENIDES* 


The  Scene  represents  the  Oracle  of  Delphi:  the  Central  Doors  being  the 
Gate  of  the  'Adytum;  or  Innermost  shrine.  From  the  left  Inferior  Door 
enter  the  Priestess  of  the  Oracle,  who  stands  in  front  of  the  Central  Gate, 
to  offer  the  Morning  Prayer. 

PROLOGUE 

The  Priestess's  Prayer  enumerates  the  Deities  who  have  connection  with 
the  Ancient  Oracle,  how  Apollo  is  its  main  guardian,  after  it  has  passed 
through  many  hands ;  other  Deities  have  a  share  in  it,  even  Zeus  the 
Supreme  Accomplisher.  Praying  that  her  divinations  that  day  may  excel 
even  her  past,  she  calls  on  the  Pilgrims  to  come  as  the  lot  permits.  28 

Exit  through  the  Main  Gate  into  the  Inner  Shrine.  In  a  moment  she 
returns,  pale  and  disordered,  flinging  wide  open  the  Central  Gates, 
through  which  can  dimly  be  discerned  dreadful  forms  in  the  Inner 
Shrine. 

She  can  hardly  stand  for  the  terror  of  the  sight  she  has  seen ;  the  sacred 
shrine  polluted  by  the  presence  of  a  man  in  suppliant  garb,  bunch  of  olives 
and  tufts  of  wool,  his  sword  yet  reeking  with  a  recent  murder ;  and  sit- 
ting round  about  him  yet  more  dreaded  beings. 


A  troop 
Of  women  strange  to  look  at  sleepeth  there 
Before  this  wanderer,  seated  on  their  stools ; 
Not  women  they,  but  Gorgons  I  must  call  them  ; 
Nor  yet  can  I  to  Gorgon  forms  compare  them  ; 
I  have  seen  painted  shapes  that  bear  away 
The  feast  of  Phineus.    Wingless,  though,  are  these. 
And  swarth,  and  every  way  abominable. 
They  snort  with  breath  that  none  may  dare  approach. 
And  from  their  eyes  a  loathsome  humour  pours, 
And  such  their  garb  as  neither  to  the  shrine 
Of  Gods  is  meet  to  bring,  nor  mortal  roof. 
Ne'er  have  I  seen  a  race  that  owns  this  tribe. 
Nor  is  there  land  can  boast  it  rears  such  brood, 
Unhurt  and  free  from  sorrow  for  its  pains. 
Henceforth  be  it  the  lot  of  Loxias, 
Our  mighty  lord,  himself  to  deal  with  them : 
True  prophet-healer  he,  and  portent-seer, 
And  for  all  others  cleanser  of  their  homes. 


46 


63 


At  her  word,  in  the  entrance  of  the  Inner  Shrine  appears  Apollo 
with  Hermes,  and  they  lead  Orestes  out. 


♦Euphemism  for  the  Furies,  as  the  popular  name  *  Good  neighbours'  for  Mischievous  Fairies. 


28 


Apollo  will  never  fail  his  suppliant ;  it  is  he  who  has  sent  sleep  on  these 
loathly  Beings,  bom  out  of  evils,  with  whom  neither  Gods  nor  men  hold 
intercourse.  They  will  still  pursue,  but  he  must  fly  to  the  ancient  City  of 
Pallas  and  clasp  her  statue;  there  'judges  of  these  things'  and  *a  means' 
will  be  found  to  rid  him  of  his  evils.  Orestes  expresses  confidence  in 
Apollo's  justice,  who  reiterates  his  pledge  in  the  name  of  Zeus  and  commits 
the  wanderer  to  the  charge  of  his  own  brother  Hermes,  the  Escort-God,  to 
take  him  safe  to  Athens.  q^ 

Apollo  disappears  into  his  shrine,  and  Hermes  and  Orestes  leave  by  the 
Left  side  or  Distance-door.  The  stage  being  thus  left  vacant,  the  ma- 
chinery of  the  roller-stage  brings  the  interior  of  the  cave  to  the  front  : 
showing  the  sleeping  Furies  scattered  over  the  floor.  ,  The  Ghost  of  Cly- 
tamnestra  rises  in  front  of  the  entrance  to  the  Inner  Shrine. 
Clytcem.  What  ho  !     Sleep  on !     What  need  of  sleepers  now  ? 

And  I  am  put  by  you  to  foul  disgrace 

Among  the  other  dead,  nor  fails  reproach 

Among  the  shades  that  I  a  murderess  am  ; 

And  so  in  shame  I  wander,  and  I  tell  you 

That  at  their  hands  I  bear  worst  forms  of  blame. 

And  much  as  J  have  borne  from  nearest  kin,  loo 

Yet  not  one  god  is  stirred  to  wrath  for  me. 

Though  done  to  death  by  matricidal  hands. 

See  ye  these  heart-wounds,  whence  and  how  they  came  ? 

Yea,  when  it  sleeps,  the  mind  is  bright  with  eyes ; 

But  in  the  day  it  is  man's  lot  to  lack 

All  true  discernment.     Many  a  gift  of  mine 

Have  ye  lapped  up,  libations  pure  from  wine, 

And  soothing  rites  that  shut  out  drunken  mirth ; 

And  I  dread  banquets  of  the  night  would  offer 

On  altar-hearth,  at  hour  no  god  might  share. 

And  lo !  all  this  is  trampled  under  foot. 

He  is  escaped,  and  flees,  like  fawn,  away. 

And  even  from  the  midst  of  all  your  toils 

Has  nimbly  slipped,  and  draws  wide  mouth  at  you. 

Hear  ye ;  for  I  have  spoken  for  my  life ; 

Give  heed,  ye  dark,  earth-dwelling  goddesses, 

I,  Clytaemnestra's  phantom,  call  on  you. 

[  The  Erinnyes  moan  in  their  sleep. 

Moan  on,  the  man  is  gone,  and  flees  far  off : 

My  kindred  find  protectors  ;  I  find  none. 

Moan  as  before. 
Too  sleep-oppressed  art  thou,  nor  pitiest  me  : 
Orestes,  murderer  of  his  mother,  'scapes. 

{^Noises  repeated. 
Dost  snort  ?    Dost  drowse  ?    Wilt  thou  not  rise  and  speed  ? 
What  have  ye  ever  done  but  work  out  ill? 

[Noises  as  before. 
Yea,  sleep  and  toil,  supreme  conspirators. 
Have  withered  up  the  dreaded  dragon's  strength. 
Chorus  of  Furies,  starting  up  suddenly  with  a  yell. 

Seize  him,  125 

Seize,  seize,  yea,  seize  :  look  well  to  it. 
Clytam.  Thou,  phantom-like,  dost  hunt  thy  prey  and  criest, 
Like  hound  that  never  rests  from  care  of  toil. 


\ 


a© 

What  dost  thou  ?    (To  one  Erinnys.)    Rise  and  let 

not  toil  o'ercome  thee. 
Nor,  lulled  to  sleep,  lose  all  thy  sense  of  loss. 
Let  thy  soul  {to  another)  feel  the  pain  of  just  reproach : 
The  wise  of  heart  find  that  their  goad  and  spur. 
And  thou  {to  a  third)  breathe  on  him  with  thy 

blood-flecked  breath, 
And  with  thy  vapour,  thy  maw's  fire,  consume  him ; 
Chase  him,  and  wither  with  a  fresh  pursuit. 
Leader  of  the  Chor.  Wake,  wake,  I  say ;  wake  her,  as  I  wake  thee. 
Dost  slumber  ?    Rise,  I  say,  and  shake  off  sleep. 
Let's  see  if  this  our  prelude  be  in  vain. 


134 


The  Furies  start  up  and  {still  on  the  roller-stage)  perform  a  Fury 
Dance  for  Prelude  in  three  short  Strophes  and  Antistrophes. 

Our  prey  is  gone  !  Apollo,  ever  known  as  a  robber-god,  has  now  delivered 
a  matricide  from  his  due  doom.  Even  in  my  dreams  a  feeling  of  reproach 
stung  me  as  a  whip.  Such  are  the  doings  of  these  *  younger  gods.'  See 
Earth's  Central  Shrine  is  stained  with  blood,  and  Apollo  has  taken  sides 
with  a  mortal  against  a  god ;  but  though  the  god  may  vex  them,  the  culprit 
shall  not  escape.  j5q 

Apollo,  re-appearing  from  the  Inner  Shrine,  threatens  the  Furies  with  his 
bow.  He  bids  them  leave  his  Sacred  precincts  and  seek  scenes  more  fitted 
to  them. 

There  where  heads  upon  the  scaffold  lie, 
And  eyes  are  gouged  and  throats  of  men  are  cut, 
Where  men  are  maimed  and  stoned  to  death,  and  groan 
With  bitter  wailing  'neath  the  spine  impaled. 
A  stichomuthic  contest  ensues ;  the  Furies  reproach  Apollo  with  taking  the 
part  of  a  matricide.      He  urges  she  had  first  slain  her  husband  —  they  retort 
that  husband  is  not  kin,  to  which  Apollo  pleads  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage 
tie  ;  this  authorized  by  the  great  example  of  Zeus  and  Hera,  with  its  special 
patroness  Cypris,  this  "  assigned  by  Fate  and  guided  by  the  Right  is  more 
than  any  oath."     Neither  party  will  give  way  ;  Apollo  appeals  to  Pallas  as 
Umpire,  the  Furies  declare  they  will  never  desist  from  the  pursuit.  225 

CHANGE  OF  SCENE 

By  the  turning  of  the  periacti  and  other  mechanical  changes  the  scene  is 
shifted  to  the  familiar  Acropolis  of  Athens  itself,  the  open  Central  Doors 
being  arranged  to  represent  the  Porch  of  the  Temple  of  'Athene,  Guar- 
dian of  the  City.*  Enter  by  Distance  side-door  Orestes,  who  advances  to 
the  Centre  and  clasps  the  Statue  of  Pallas.  226 

Orestes  has  come  as  suppliant,  but  no  longer  with  the  stain  of  blood  on 
his  hands ;  that  during  his  long  wanderings  has  been  by  due  rites  washed 
away. 

Suddenly  by  the  same  door  the  Furies  enter  upon  the  Stage,  their 
faces  to  the  ground  and  tracking  Orestes*  steps.  235 

Chorus  of  Furies:  they  have  been  long  off  the  track,  at  last  the  *  dumb 
informer'  is  clear  again,  already  they  catch  the  loved  scent  of  blood. — 
There  he  is  clasping  in  confidence  the  statue  of  the  Goddess,  but  watch,  he 
escapes  not :  no  trial,  as  he  hopes,  for  the  matricide ;  his  own  blood  they 
must  suck  from  his  living  members,  and  when  they  have  had  their  fill  of  this 
drink  undrinkable  they  will  drag  him  down  alive  to  bear  the  fate  of  a  matri- 
cide.   Orestes  not  yet  perceiving  them  continues  his  prayer:  long  experience 


30 

has  taught  him  the  various  cleansing  rites,  and  they  have  all  been  paid  ;  he 
has  dwelt  amongst  men  and  no  impurity  has  been  brought  on  them ;  this 
and  all-cleansing  Time  show  that  the  stain  of  matricide  is  removed,  and 
with  pure  hands  he  can  clasp  Athene,  queen  of  this  land,  and  pledge  the 
Argive  alliance  for  her  City  [one  of  the  poHHcal  hits  of  the  piece']  if  she  will 
befriend  him.  The  Furies  suddenly  spring  up:  Not  Apollo  nor  Athene 
can  save  thee  from  thy  doom  !  Orestes  clings  convulsively  to  the  Statue. 
Thou  resistest  ?  then  feel  our  spell !  296 

Chanting  in  marching  rhythm  they  rapidly  descend  the  Orchestra  stair- 
case, form  about  the  Altar  and  then  proceed  to 

CHORAL  SPELL  (FOR  ENTRY  ODE) 

in  four  Strophes  and  Antistrophes, 

Strophe  I 

O  Mother  who  didst  bear  me,  mother  Night, 
A  terror  of  the  living  and  the  dead, 

Hear  me,  oh  hear  ! 
The  son  of  Leto  puts  me  to  disgrace 

And  robs  me  of  my  spoil, 
This  crouching  victim  for  a  Mother's  blood  : 

And  over  him  as  slain. 
We  raise  this  chant  of  madness,  frenzy-working. 

The  hymn  the  Erinnyes  love, 
A  spell  upon  the  soul,  a  lyreless  strain 

That  withers  up  men's  strength. 

Antistrophe  I 

This  lot  the  all-pervading  destiny 

Hath  spun  to  hold  its  ground  for  evermore, 

That  we  should  still  attend 
On  him  on  whom  there  rests  the  guilt  of  blood 

Of  kin  shed  causelessly, 
Till  earth  lie  o'er  him  ;  nor  shall  death  set  free. 

And  over  him  as  slain, 
We  raise  this  chant  of  madness,  frenzy-working, 

The  hymn  the  Erinnyes  love, 
A  spell  upon  the  soul,  a  lyreless  strain. 

That  withers  up  men's  strength.  328 

Strophe  II 

Such  lot  was  then  assigned  us  at  our  birth : 
From  us  the  Undying  Ones  must  hold  aloof  i 

Nor  is  there  one  who  shares 

The  banquet-meal  with  us  ; 
In  garments  white  I  have  nor  part  nor  lot ; 
My  choice  was  made  for  overthrow  of  homes, 
Where  home-bred  slaughter  works  a  loved  one's  death  : 

Ha  !  hunting  after  him. 

Strong  though  he  be,  'tis  ours 
To  wear  the  newness  of  his  young  blood  down. 

Antistrophe  II 

Since  'tis  our  work  another's  task  to  take. 
The  Gods  indeed  may  bar  the  force  of  prayers 


31 


Men  offer  unto  me. 

But  may  not  clash  in  strife  ; 
For  Zeus  doth  cast  us  from  his  fellowship, 
"  Blood-dropping,  worthy  of  his  utmost  hate." . 
For  leaping  down  as  from  th^  topmost  height, 

I  on  my  victim  bring 

The  crushing  force  of  feet. 
Limbs  that  o'erthrow  e'en  those  that  swiftly  run, 

An  At&  hard  to  bear. 

Strophe  III 

And  fame  of  men,  though  very  lofty  now 

Beneath  the  clear,  bright  sky. 
Below  the  earth  grows  dim  and  fades  away 
Before  the  attack  of  us,  the  black-robed  ones. 
And  these  our  dancings  wild. 
Which  all  men  loathe  and  hate. 

Antistrophe  III 

Falling  in  frenzied  guilt,  he  knows  it  not ; 

So  thick  the  blinding  cloud 
That  o'er  him  floats  ;  and  Rumour  widely  spread 
With  many  a  sigh  reports  the  dreary  doom, 
A  mist  that  o'er  the  house 
In  gathering  darkness  broods. 

Strophe  IV 

Fixed  is  the  law,  no  lack  of  means  find  we ; 

We  work  out  all  our  will. 
We,  the  dread  Powers,  the  registrars  of  crime, 

Whom  mortals  fail  to  soothe, 
Fulfilling  tasks  dishonoured,  unrevered. 

Apart  from  all  the  Gods, 

In  foul  and  sunless  gloom. 
Driving  o'er  rough  steep  road  both  those  that  see, 

And  those  whose  eyes  are  dark. 

Antistrophe  IV 

What  mortal  man  then  doth  not  bow  in  awe 

And  fear  before  all  this. 
Hearing  from  me  the  destined  ordinance 

Assigned  me  by  the  Gods? 
This  task  of  mine  is  one  of  ancient  days ; 

Nor  meet  I  here  with  scorn, 

Though  'neath  the  earth  I  dwell, 
And  live  there  in  the  darkness  thick  and  dense. 

Where  never  sunbeam  falls. 


^S^* 


358 


374 


EPISODE  I 
Enter  in  her  Chariot  [along  the  balcony  of  the  permanent  scene]  Athene, 
Athene  has  heard  far  off  Orestes'  cry,  and  has  come  in  her  swift  chariot. 
What  is  this  strange  presence  in  her  own  city,  and  who  is  this  suppliant  ? 
The  Chorus,  in  parallel  dialogue,  explain  who  they  are,  and  seek  to  enlist 
Athene  against  the  matricide  ;  but  Athene  answers  she  has  only  heard  one 
side.    Chorus  rejoin  that  the  adversary  dares  not  rest  his  case  on  oath  for 


33 


oath  [political  allusion  to  procedure  of  ordinary  Athenian  Courts]  ;  Athene 
thinks  that  a  poor  way  of  getting  at  truth,  and  as  Chorus  express  confidence 
in  her  judgment  she  calls  on  Orestes;  he  details  again  all  the  rites  of  purifi- 
cation he  has  gone  through,  and  how  Apollo  bade  him  do  the  deed.  Athene 
pauses  :  Murder  stirred  by  wrath  [«.  e.y  homicide  as  distinguished  from  mur- 
der ^  the  special  province  of  the  Court  of  Areopagus]  is  too  much  for  mortal  or 
even  herself  to  decide ;  but  she  hereby  appoints  jurors  on  oath  \the  special 
distinction  of  the  Areopagus]  as  a  perpetual  institution  for  dealing  with  such 
cases.  Let  the  parties  prepare,  she  will  return  soon  with  the  best  of  her 
citizens  \observei  the  Court  was  an  Aristocratic  Court]  as  Jurors.  467 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE 

in  four  Strophes  and  Antistrophes. 

Unless  the  right  cause  gains  here  there  will  be  an  outbreak  of  new  laws, 
general  recklessness,  and  woes  of  slain  kindred  with  no  Furies  to  avenge. 
Awe  is  good  as  watchman  of  the  soul,  ahd  calm  Wisdom  gained  by  sorrow; 
it  is  not  the  lawless  life  that  is  to  be  praised,  but  from  the  soul's  true  health 
comes  the  fair  fortune,  loved  of  all  mankind  and  aim  of  many  a  prayer.  He 
who  reveres  not  the  High  Altar  of  Justice,  but  dareth  and  transgresseth  all, 
will,  perforce,  as  time  wears  on,  have  to  take  in  sail. 

When  trouble  makes  him  hers,  and  each  yard-arm 
Is  shivered  by  the  blast, 

and  in  vain  he  struggles  mid  the  whirling  waves,  ever  failing  to  weather 
round  the  perilous  promontory  till  he  is  wrecked  on  the  reefs  of  Vengeance. 

535 
CHANGE  OF  SCENE 

to  Mar^  Hill.    Enter  Athene^  followed  by  Herald  and  Twelve  Citizens, 

EXODUS,  OR  FINALE 

Athene  bids  the  Herald  sound  a  summons,  for  the  whole  city  is  to  learn 
the  laws  she  makes  for  all  time  to  come.  Apollo  enters  above.  The  Chorus 
challenging  his  right,  Apollo  declares  himself  Witness  and  Advocate  for 
Orestes.  551 

The  Proceedings  from  this  part  are  exactly  modelled  on  those  of  the  Court  of 
the  Areopagus.  The  Chorus  called  on  to  open,  cross-examine  Orestes  in 
stichomuthic  dialogue,  who  admits  the  deed,  and  pleads  justification  that 
she  slew  his  father.  Cho.  rejoin  she  has  been  paid  by  death,  Orestes  still 
lives.  Why,  then,  Orestes  enquires,  did  they  not  pursue  her  while  alive  ? 
Chorus  rest  on  plea  that  hers  was  not  kindred  blood.  On  this  Orestes  joins 
issue  and  appeals  to  Apollo.  He  answers :  Though  the  Jurors  are  on  oath, 
yet  Zeus  gave  the  oracle,  and  he  is  mightier  than  any  oath. —  Cho.  What, 
Zeus  take  a  matricide's  part?  —  Apollo  details  the  base  manner  of  Agamem- 
non's murder. —  Cho.  taunt  Apollo  that  Zeus  himself  rose  by  imprisoning  his 
father. —  Apollo  rejoins  that  imprisonment  is  remediable,  but  blood  once 
spilt  can  never  be  brought  back. —  Cho.  appeal  to  impossibility  of  restoring 
such  a  criminal  to  the  house  he  has  polluted. — Then  Apollo  puts  forth  the 
essence  of  his  case  (in  a  subtle  plea  which  would  delight  the  litigious  Athen- 
ians) :  the  mother  is  only  the  nurse,  the  father  is  the  true  parent ;  as  proof 
here  is  Pallas  sprung  from  a  Father  without  any  Mother;  none  can  be 
shown  bom  without  Father.  650 

Both  parties  join  issue,  and  then  {amidst  intense  political  excitement) 
Athene  delivers  the  Inauguration  Address  of  the  Court  of  the  Areopagus. 

Athene.  Hear  ye  my  order,  O  ye  Attic  people. 

In  act  to  judge  your  first  great  murder-cause. 


33 


And  henceforth  shall  the  host  of  ^Egeus'  race 

For  ever  own  this  council-hall  of  judges  : 

And  for  this  Ares'  hill,  the  Amazon's  seat 

And  camp  when  they,  enraged  with  Theseus,  came 

In  hostile  march,  and  built  as  counterwork 

This  citadel  high-reared,  a  city  new. 

And  sacrificed  to  Ares,  whence  'tis  named 

As  Ares'  hill  and  fortress :  in  this,  I  say, 

The  reverent  awe  its  citizens  shall  own, 

And  fear,  awe's  kindred,  shall  restrain  from  wrong 

By  day,  nor  less  by  night,  so  long  as  they. 

The  burghers,  alter  not  themselves  their  laws : 

But  if  with  drain  of  filth  and  tainted  soil 

Clear  river  thou  pollute,  no  drink  thoul't  find. 

I  give  my  counsel  to  you,  citizens. 

To  reverence  and  guard  well  that  form  of  state 

Which  is  nor  lawless,  nor  tyrannical, 

And  not  to  cast  all  fear  from  out  the  city ; 

For  what  man  lives  devoid  of  fear  and  just  ? 

But  rightly  shrinking,  owning  awe  like  this, 

Ye  then  would  have  a  bulwark  of  your  land, 

A  safeguard  for  your  city,  such  as  none 

Boast  or  in  Skythia's  or  in  Pelops'  clime. 

This  council  I  establish  pure  from  bribe. 

Reverend,  and  keen  to  act,  for  those  that  sleep 

An  ever-watchful  sentry  of  the  land. 


676 


After  a  rapid  stichomuthic  interchange  of  promises  and  threats  by  the  two 
parties  the  voting  is  proceeded  with,  Athene  first  giving  her  casting  vote,  in 
case  of  equality,  to  Orestes,  as  preferring  the  male  cause.  [  This  was  a 
political  allusion  to  the  '  vote  of  Athene '  or  custom  of  the  Areopagite  Court  to 
give  the  casting  vote  to  the  accused.]  The  votes  are  counted,  found  equal, 
and  Athene  declares  Orestes  acquitted.  —  Orestes^  in  a  burst  of  gratitude,  de- 
clares his  Argive  people  shall  always  be  firm  friends  with  the  people  of 
Athens.     [Political  hit.]  747 

The  Chorus  breaking  into  Strophic  Lyrics  \o^  vengeance  and  long  train  of 
ills  on  the  city  for  this,  Athene  {in  blank  verse)  propitiating  them,  and  plead- 
ing that  the  cause  has  been  fairly  tried.  Moreover  they  would  lose  all  the 
good  things  the  city  will  do  for  them  if  friendly,  offering  them  a  house  in 
its  midst.  Gradually  the  Chorus  calm  down,  and  having  {in  parallel 
dialogue)  gained  a  repeated  promise  from  Athene  they  change  their  tone 
and  {in  Strophic  Lyrics)  promise  all  good  to  the  land,  Athene  making 
acknowledgment  on  behalf  of  the  city  {in  marching  rhythm  as  signifying 
exultation).  Finally  Athene  offers  to  conduct  them  at  once  to  their  homes, 
the  cave-chapels  where  the  Eumenides  were  worshipped. 

Enter  on  the  stage  an  array  of  Matrons  and  Girls  in  festal  robes ^  as  worn 
in  the  rites  of  the  Furies,  now  called  Eumenides  or  *  Gentle  Goddesses  ' 
\thus  spectacular  effect  with  which  ALschylus  loved  to  conclude^.  They, 
with  Athene,  chanting  the  Ritual  hymn,  file  down  into  the  Orchestra,  and 
so  lead  the  Chorus  out  in  the  direction  of  the  Shrines  of  the  Eumenides, 


34 


t 


35 


THE  ELECTRA   OF  SOPHOCLES* 


Scene  Mycence  ;  the  Stage  and  Orchestra  arranged  to  represent  the  Mar- 
ket Place,  Portico  of  a  Temple  in  the  Centre  ;  Inferior  door  on  one  side  is 
the  gate  to  Palace  of  yEgisthus  and  Clytamnestra,  that  on  the  other  leads 
to  the  tomb  of  Agamemnon  ;  Side-scene  on  one  side  gives  a  view  of  Argos, 
Enter  from  Distance  side-door  Orestes,  Pylades  and  Attendant, 

PROLOGUE 

The  aged  Attendant  points  out  to  Orestes  Argos,  the  Grove  of  lo,  the 
Temple  and  other  details  of  the  Scene ;  it  was  just  here  he  received  Orestes 
as  a  boy  when  his  father  was  slain  and  bore  him  to  a  place  of  safety  ;  now 
the  long  wished  for  day  of  vengeance  is  come.  Orestes  acknowledges  his 
long  fidelity ;  relates  how  Phoebus  has  sent  him  with  this  oracle : 


That  I  myself  unarmed  with  shield  or  host 
Should  subtly  work  the  righteous  deed  of  blood, 


36 


and  details  his  plan  :  the  Attendant,  whose  age  will  save  him  from  recogni- 
tion, shall  announce  the  death  of  Orestes,  while  Orestes  and  Pylades  shall 
perform  the  rites  enjoined  at  his  father's  tomb ;  then,  when  the  wrong-doers 
believe  themselves  secure,  the  Avenger  will  easily  gain  admittance.  \^At 
this  moment  a  woman's  wail  is  heard  within.']  Orestes  wonders  if  it  may  be 
his  own  Electra  and  would  stop,  the  Attendant  hurries  him  away  to  do  the 
God's  behest.  85 

Exeunt  Orestes  and  Pylades  on  left  to  Tomb  of  Agamemnon  ;  Attendant 
back  through  the  Distance  side-door.  Enter  from  Palace  Electra  moaning 
and  weeping, 

MONODY 

Electra  in  Lyric  Monody.  The  light,  the  air,  the  loathed  house  and  bed 
she  sleeps  on,  all  are  witnesses  of  her  ceaseless  misery  and  woe,  orphaned  as 
she  is  of  a  father  foully  slain.  She  calls  on  the  Curses,  the  Furies  and  other 
dread  Powers  who  watch  over  evil  slaughter  to  send  Orestes,  she  can  no 
longer  bear  up  with  sorrow's  great  burden  cast  into  the  balance.  120 

Enter  by  the  Orchestral  door  Chorus  of  Argive  Maidens  to  condole  with 
Electra, 

LYRIC  CONCERTO  (for  PARODE) 

Cho.  Why  mourn  for  even  the  guileful  slaughter  of  thy  Father,  accursed 
deed  ?  Electra  :  I  know  your  kind  and  tender  friendship,  yet  will  never  be 
dissuaded. —  Cho.  Yet  what  groans  and  prayers  can  raise  thy  sire  from  the 
doomed  pool  of  Hades  ?  you  go  from  woes  bearable  to  woes  beyond  bearing. 
Elec.  It  is  weak  to  forget  parents  so  lost ;  rather  for  me  the  nightingale  that 
ever  wails  '  Itys,'  or  Niobe  weeping  in  stone.— O^.  Thou  art  not  the  only 
one  who  feels  sorrow  :  there  are  thy  sisters,  and  another  now  mourning  in  a 
youth  obscure,  but  who  will  one  day  return  to  save.  Elec. —  Ah  !  him  I 
yearn  for,  but  he  mocks  my  messages,  and  promises  yet  never  comes. — Cho, 


•  The  quotations  of  Sophocles  are  (mostly)  from  Plumptre's  translation. 


Take  heart :  Time  is  a  calm  and  patient  deity ;  trusting  in  Zeus  you  will 
find  neither  Orestes  nor  the  God  of  Acheron  forgetful.  Elec.  Yet  mean- 
while the  larger  portion  of  my  life  is  gone ;  orphaned,  un-wed,  an  alien 
stranger  I  serve  in  the  house  where  I  was  wont  to  reign.— 67/^.  Ah !  that 
sad  day !  Guile  devised  the  blow  and  lust  struck  it !  Elec.  Oh,  most 
horrible  day,  most  horrible  night !  the  foul  banquet !  the  dread  forms  of 
death  he  met  with  at  their  accursed  hands,  he  who  was  my  life ! — Cho.  But 
take  care :  excess  of  grief  makes  you  utter  what  may  bring  you  into  trouble. 
Elec.  I  know,  but  will  never  cease  from  uttering  woe  on  woe :  leave  me,  I 
am  beyond  soothing,  and  will  never  pause  to  count  my  tears.— 0&<?.  It  is 
with  pure  good  will,  as  if  a  mother,  I  beg  you  not  to  heap  ills  on  ills.  Elec. 
Is  misery  limited  ?  is  it  noble  to  neglect  the  dead  ?  if  they  escape  without 
penalty  fear  of  the  Gods  will  be  swept  from  the  earth.  250 

EPISODE  I 

Chorus  now  changing  to  Blank  Verse.  We  meant  well,  but  do  as  you  will, 
we  will  follow  you.  Elec.  I  am  indeed  ashamed  ;  but  remember  the  trouble 
I  am  in  :  to  be  hated  by  my  mother,  house-mate  with  my  father's  murderers ; 
with  iEgisthus  sitting  on  my  father's  throne  by  day  and  pouring  libations  on 
the  hearth  he  violated ;  my  mother  not  living  in  fear  of  the  Erinnys,  but 
making  a  red-letterday  of  the  day  my  father  died  :  I,  alas  !  keep  his  birth  day 
in  solitary  feast.  I  am  bitterly  chidden  when  caught  weeping,  and  threatened 
when  news  comes  of  Orestes :  all  hope  is  far. — ^gisthus  is  from  home,  or 
she  dared  not  have  indulged  her  grief  even  thus  far.  327 

Enter  her  sister,  Chrysothemis,  bearing  funeral  offerings.  She  remonstrates 
with  Electra  for  uselessly  wailing,  instead  of  adapting  herself  to  her  fate. 
Elec.  retorts  that  she  has  learned  her  lesson  by  rote.  She  advises  to  hate 
when  there  is  strength  to  back  hatred,  yet  she  will  not  join  in  working  revenge. 
Electra  covets  not  her  choice  of  ease  and  wealth,  and  to  be  called  her  moth- 
er's child,  while  it  is  open  to  her  to  be  her  father's  !  Cho.  moderates :  each 
may  learn  something  from  the  other.  Chrysoth.  is  accustomed  to  Electra's 
want  of  charity  and  would  not  now  have  accosted  her  except  to  warn  her  of 
new  evils  :  they  mean  to  get  her  out  of  the  country  and  shut  up  in  a  dungeon 
where  she  shall  never  see  the  light  of  day.—  A  rapid  stichomuthic  dialogue 
follows  as  to  temporizing  and  resisting,  and  then  Chrys.  is  going  to  do  her 
errand.  Elec.  enquires  what  this  is,  and  learns  that  Clytaemnestra,  disturbed 
by  a  dream,  is  sending  propitiatory  libations. 


417 


A  rumor  ran 
That  she  had  seen  our  father's  presence  come 
(Yes,  thine  and  mine)  a  second  time  to  light, 
And  then  that  he  upon  the  hearth  stood  up. 
And  took  the  sceptre  which  he  bore  of  old. 
Which  now  ^Egisthus  bears,  and  fixed  it  there. 
And  from  it  sprang  a  sucker  fresh  and  strong. 
And  all  Mycenae  rested  in  its  shade. 
This  tale  I  heard  from  some  one  who  was  near 
When  she  declared  her  vision  to  the  Sun ; 
But  more  than  this  I  heard  not,  save  that  she 
Now  sends  me  hither  through  that  fright  of  hers. 

Electra  catching  a  gleam  of  hope,  adjures  her  to  disobey,  and  in  place  of 
Clytaemnestra's  offerings  to  put  on  the  tomb  their  own:  Electra's  own 
withered  lock  and  untrimmed  girdle  ;  and  instead  of  propitiatory  prayer 
pray  to  send  Orestes.  Cho.  approves  and  Chrysothemis  catches  the  spirit 
and  exit,  ^yi 


36 


37 


Hi 


CHORAL  INTERLUDE  I 

in   Strophe,   Antistrophe  and  Epode. 

If  my  mind  misleads  me  not,  Vengeance  is  coming  with  hands  that  bear 
the  might  of  Righteousness ;  a  new  courage  springs  through  my  veins  at 
these  propitious  dreams,  that  Agamemnon  will  not  forget  for  aye  nor  the 
axe  that  slew  him.  She  too  is  coming,  Erinnys  shod  with  brass,  dread  form 
with  many  a  foot  and  many  a  hand :  never  will  the  boding  sign  come  falsely 
to  those  who  did  the  deed,  or  men  will  find  no  prophecies  in  dreams.— Ah 
dreadful  chariot  race  of  Pelops,  foundation  of  all  the  ills  which  have  never 
since  left  the  house.  _  - 

EPISODE  II 

Enter  front  Palace  aytoemnestra  and  Attendant.     Clyt.     It  is  .^gisthus* 
absence  that  makes  you  bold  enough  to  appear  outside  the  Palace  and  dis- 
grace us.     I  know  your  reproaches  :  but  it  was  Justice,  not  I,  that  slew  your 
father;  what  nght  had  he  to  slay  wj.  child,  born  of  my  travails,  and  not 
some  other  Argive  children,  Menelaus's  for  example,  whose  the  quarrel  was  > 
Had  Hades  a  special  lust  to  feed  on  my  children  1—Elec,    This  time  at 
least  It  is  not  I  who  begin.     I  could  reply  if  permitted.— 0^/.  permits.— 
Elec.     You  admit  the  monstrous  admission,  that  you  slew  your  husband— for 
justice  sake  ?   or  for  the  '  coward  base '  who  is  your  paramour  ?     You  well 
know  that  the  offence  for  which  Artemis  demanded  the  sacrifice  was  Aga- 
memnon s  slaughter  of  the  Sacred  Stag,  and  from  his  seed  therefore  the 
a  onement  must  come  which  so  unwillingly  he  made.     And  if  not,  is  your 
pea  blood  for  blood  ?  then  you  will   be  the  first  to  suffer.     How  can  you 
plead  thus  while  living  in  open  guilt  with  him  who  slew  your  husband  ?     It 
is  a  cruel  mistress,  not  a  mother,  I  revile:  you  charge   me  with  rearing 
Orestes  as  minister  of  vengeance,  I  would  indeed  if  I  had  strength '     So 
proclaim  me  a  monster,  that  will  make  me  a  fitting  daughter  of  my  mother. 
—Lhor.  Here  is  passion  rather  than  care  to  speak  right.— C/>//.     Thus  to 
show  scorn  for  her  mother!  she  will  go  all  lengths  and  feel  no  shame.— i?/^r. 
Shame  I  do  feel,  but  the  deeds  which  beget  the  shame  are  yours.— C/w     By 
Artemis,  you  shall  pay  for  this  when  .Egisthus  comes  \—Elcc.     I  thought  I 
had  leave  to  speak.-C/^'/.  Will  you  not  be  silent  and  let  me  perform  my 
ntes  without  disorder  ?—A/^r.     Now  I  am  silent  (i^^/ir«).—C/K/.    then  pro- 
ceeds to  offer  her  gifts  to  Phoebus,  with  prayer  to  avert  the  ill  omen  of  the 
past  night:  as  her  prayer  "is  not  amongst  friends,"  she  can  allude  but 
darkly  to  all  she  means,  but  He  is  a  God  and  will  understand  all  she  leaves 
unsaid.  ,  „ 

059 
Enter  by  the  Distance-door  Attendant  of  Orestes. 

Enquiring  of  Chorus  he  finds  he  is  arrived  before  the  people  he  is  seeking 
and  announces  to  Clytaemnestra  that  Orestes  is  dead.  Electra  utters  a  wail 
of  agony,  while  Clyt.  asks  for  particulars.  Then  follows  the  regular  '  Mess- 
enger s  Speech,'  a  detailed  and  graphic  account  of  a  chariot  race,  in  which 
he  was  thrown  and  killed.  Clyt.  trembles  between  joy  at  deliverance  from 
her  suspense,  and  a  touch  of  motheriy  feeling  ;  still  she  triumphs  over  the 
now  hopeless  Electra :  for  him,  what  is  is  well. 

Elec.  Hear  this,  thou  Power  avenging  him  who  died  ! 

Clyt.  Right  well  she  heard,  and  what  she  heard  hath  wrought. 
The  Messenger  is  taken  in  to  the  Palace,  Electra  left  to  wail  without,  with 
attempt  of  Chorus  to  condole  {lyric  concerto).  gyo 

Enter  from  Tomb  of  Agamemnon  Chrysothemis  jubilant  and  bearing 

a  lock  of  hair  of  Orestes, 


She  eagerly  insists  that  Orestes  is  come  ;  shows  the  lock  and  describes  the 
libations  that  no  other  would  pour  on  that  tomb.  Bit  by  bit  Electra  checks 
her  joy,  and  informs  her  of  the  news.  They  mourn  together,  till  Electra 
breaks  out  with  proposal,  that  since  their  friends  are  snatched  from  them, 
and  they  two  are  left  alone,  they  shall  themselves  work  their  revenge ;  that 
will  be  the  safest  and  will  bring  glory :  *  the  sisters  twain  who  saved  their 
father's  house.'  Chor.  This  requires  consideration.  Chry.  Will  you  never 
learn  that  you  are  a  woman  and  not  a  man  ?  Elec.  then  declares  she  will 
do  it  herself,  and  after  a  stichomuthic  contest  exit  Chrysothemis.  1057 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  II 
In  two  Strophes  and  Antistrophes. 

The  storks  show  a  pattern  of  filial  piety :  why  do  not  men  follow  it  ?  By 
Zeus  and  Themis  there  is  a  punishment  for  the  unfilial :  may  the  voice  cry- 
ing for  vengeance  reach  the  sons  of  Atreus  below  !  Their  house  is  full  of 
woe ;  Electra,  alone  faithful,  is  ready  to  face  death  if  only  she  may  destroy 
the  twin  furies.  The  great  and  good  will  purchase  glory  with  life;  so 
may'st  thou  prevail  and  gain  the  name  of  the  best  of  daughters.  1096 

EPISODE  III 

Enter  from  Distance-door  Orestes,  Pylades,  and  Attendants. 

Orestes  informs  the  Chorus,  and  Electra  as  one  of  the  household,  that  they 
bear  the  urn  containing  the  ashes  of  Orestes,  whose  death  they  had  sent  for- 
ward a  messenger  to  announce.  Electra  begs  to  clasp  the  urn  and  pours 
over  it  a  flood  of  grief ;  here  is  nothingness  to  represent  the  dear  boy  she 
sent  out  in  bloom  of  youth ;  and  all  her  forethought  has  perished !  And  he 
died  amid  strangers  without  her  to  take  part  in  the  funeral  rites !  All  her 
sweet  toil  in  nursing  him  with  more  than  mother's  love  is  gone  !  All  is 
gone — father,  mother,  brother!  She  would  go  too;  they  ever  shared  an 
equal  lot;  now  let  her  go  to  him,  ashes  to  ashes!  1170 

Chor.  Thou,  O  Electra,  take  good  heed,  wast  born 

Of  mortal  father  ;  mortal,  too,  Orestes, 

Yield  not  too  much  to  sorrow. 
Ores.     [Trembling.l  Woe  is  me. 

What  shall  I  say  ?     Ah,  whither  find  my  way, 

In  words  that  have  no  issue  ?  for  I  fail 

In  strength  to  curb  my  speech. 
Elec.  What  sorrow  now 

Disturbs  thee  ?     Wherefore  art  thou  speaking  thus  ? 
Ores.    Is  this  Electra's  noble  form  I  see  ? 
Elec.     That  self-same  form  indeed,  in  piteous  case. 
Ores.     Alas,  alas,  for  this  sad  lot  of  thine. 
Elec.     Surely  thou  dost  not  wail,  O  friend,  for  me  ! 
Ores.     O  form  most  basely,  godlessly  misused. 
Elec.    Thy  words,  ill-omened,  fall,  O  friend,  on  none 

But  me  alone. 
Ores.  Alas,  for  this  thy  state, 

Unwedded,  hopeless. 
Elec.  Why,  O  friend,  on  me 

With  such  fixed  glance  still  gazing  dost  thou  groan  ? 
Ores.    How  little  knew  I  of  my  fortune's  ills ! 
Elec.     What  have  I  said  to  throw  such  light  on  them  ? 
Ores.    Now  that  I  see  thee  thus,  with  many  woes 

Clothed  as  a  garment. 


38 


EUc, 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 
Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 


Yet  thou  dost  but  see 
A  few  of  all  my  evils. 

What  could  be 
More  sad  than  these  to  look  on  ? 

This,  to  live 
And  sit  at  meat  with  murderers. 

With  whose  ? 
What  evil  dost  thou  indicate  by  this  ? 
My  father's ;  'tis  to  them,  against  my  will 
I  live  in  bondage. 

Who  constrains  thee,  then  ? 
My  mother  she  is  called ;  and  yet  in  nought 
Is  she  what  mother  should  be. 

In  what  acts  ? 
By  blows  and  stripes,  or  this  unseemly  life  ? 
Both  blows,  unseemly  life,  and  all  vile  deeds. 
And  is  there  none  to  help  ?    Not  one  to  check  ? 
No,  none.     Who  was     .     .     .     thou  buryest  him  as  dust. 

0  sad  one  !     How  I  pitied  thee  long  since. 

Know,  then,  thou  art  the  only  pitying  one.  1200 

For  I  alone  am  hurt  by  these  thy  woes. 
Surely  thou  dost  not  come  by  line  of  blood 
Connected  with  us. 

I  could  tell  thee  all, 
Were  these  thy  friends. 

Most  friendly  are  they  ;  speak 
As  unto  faithful  hearers. 

Put  away 
That  urn  awhile  that  thou  may'st  hear  the  whole. 
Ah  !     By  the  Gods,  O  stranger,  ask  not  that. 
Do  what  I  bid  thee,  and  thou  shalt  not  err. 
Now,  by  thy  beard,  deprive  me  not  of  that 

1  hold  most  dear. 

I  say  it  cannot  be. 
Ah  me,  Orestes,  wretched  shall  I  be, 
Bereaved  of  this  thy  tomb. 

Hush,  hush  such  words ; 
Thou  has  no  cause  for  wailing.     • 

Have  no  cause  I 
Do  I  not  wail  my  brother,  who  is  dead  ? 
Thou  hast  no  call  to  utter  speech  like  this. 
And  am  I  so  dishonoured  by  the  dead  ? 
By  none  art  thou  dishonoured.     But  this  thing 
Is  nought  to  thee. 

And  yet  it  needs  must  be. 
If  'tis  Orestes's  body  that  I  bear. 
Except  in  show  of  speech  it  is  not  his. 
Where,  then,  is  that  poor  exile's  sepulchre  ? 
Of  those  that  live  there  is  no  sepulchre.  12 19 

What  say'st  thou,  boy  ? 

No  falsehood  what  I  say. 
And  does  he  live  ? 

He  lives,  if  I  have  life. 
What,  art  thou  he  ? 

Look  thou  upon  this  seal. 
My  father's  once,  and  learn  if  I  speak  truth. 


39 


Elec. 
Ores. 
Elec. 
Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 
Elec. 


Chor. 


O  blessed  day ! 

Most  blessed,  I  too  own. 
O  voice  !    And  art  thou  come  ? 

No  longer  learn 
That  news  from  others. 

And  I  have  thee  here, 
Here  in  my  grasp  ! 

So  may'st  thou  always  have  me. 
O  dearest  friends,  my  fellow-citizens. 
Look  here  on  this  Orestes,  dead  indeed 
In  feigned  craft,  and  by  that  feigning  saved. 
We  see  it,  daughter ;  and  at  what  has  chanced 
A  tear  of  gladness  trickles  from  our  eyes. 


1231 


A  passionate  dialogue  {in  mixed  verse  :  Electra  speaking  lyrics,  Orestes  blank 
verse)  of  exultation  and  weeping  succeeds:  when  finally  Orestes,  is  calling 
back  their  thoughts  to  the  plans  of  vengeance,  when  enter  from  Palace  At- 
tendant of  Orestes ,  who  chides  them  for  their  loud  joy,  which  he  has  barely 
been  able  to  prevent  from  reaching  the  ears  of  Clytaemnestra.  Electra  is  in- 
formed who  this  attendant  is,  and  joyfully  recognizes  him  and  calls  him 
father  for  his  faithfulness.  He  cuts  conversation  short  and  hurries  Orestes 
and  Pylades  within.     Electra  with  a  prayer  retires.  1383 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  III 

Short  expression  of  the  sense  of  a  critical  moment :  Strophe,  Ares  and  the 
Avengers  are  on  i\i^\x\iZ.y—Antistrophe,  they  have  passed  beneath  the  roof- 
tree,  j^^y 

EXODUS  OR  FINALE 

Electra  rushes  out  to  stand  on  guard  against  ^gisthus  while  vengeance  is 
being  done  on  Clytaemnestra.— Cries  from  within  ;  Electra  and  Chorus  per- 
ceive  that  the  deed  is  done. — Enter  Orestes  and  Pylades  from  the  Palace  red- 
handed  ;  they  are  about  to  triumph  when  Electra  thrusts  them  back,  for 
iEgisthus  is  2.\.\v7\.\^dL.— Enter  ^gisthus  enquiring  for  the  strangers  of  Electra. 

1442 

^gis.     Where  are  the  strangers,  then  ?     Tell  this  to  me. 
Elec.       Within ;  for  they  have  found  a  loving  hostess. 
^gis.     And  did  they  say  distinctly  he  was  dead  ? 
Elec.       Ah  no  !  they  showed  it,  not  in  words  alone. 
^gis.     And  is  it  here,  that  we  may  see  it  plain? 
Elec.      'Tis  here,  a  sight  most  pitiful  to  see. 
jEgis.     Against  thy  wont  thou  giv'st  me  cause  for  joy. 
Elec.       Thou  may'st  rejoice,  if  this  be  ground  of  joy. 
yEgis.     I  bid  you  hush,  and  open  wide  the  gates 

That  all  of  Argos  and  Mycenae  see, 

So  if  there  be  that  once  were  lifted  up 

With  hopes  they  had,  vain  hopes  they  fixed  on  him. 

Now  seeing  him  dead,  they  may  receive  my  curb. 

And  finding  me  their  master,  sense  may  gain 

Without  coercion. 
Elec.  And  that  end  is  reached 

By  me ;  for  I  by  time  have  wisdom  gained. 

To  yield  to  those  more  mighty. 

The  doors  are  thrown  open,  and  disclose  Orestes  and  Pylades  stand- 
ing by  the  dead  body  of  Clytamnestra,  which  is  covered  with  a  sheet 
and  a  veil  over  the  face. 


\ 


40 


^Sts.  Lo,  I  see, 

O  Zeus,  a  sight  that  comes  right  well  for  me, 

(Without  offence  I  say  it ;  should  it  move 

The  wrath  divine,  I  wish  it  all  unsaid,) 

Withdraw  the  veil  which  hides  the  face,  that  1 

To  kindred  blood  may  pay  the  meed  of  tears. 

Do  thou  uplift  it.     'Tis  thy  task  not  mine. 

To  look  on  this,  and  kindly  words  to  speak. 

Thou  giv'st  good  counsel,  and  I  list  to  thee, 

And  thou,  if  yet  she  tarries  in  the  house. 

Call  Clytaemnestra. 

{as  yEgistkus  lifts  the  veil)     Here  she  lies  before  thee. 

Seek  her  not  elsewhere. 

Oh  what  sight  is  this  ! 
Whom  fearest  thou  ?    Who  is't  thou  dost  not  know  ? 
Into  whose  snares,  whose  closely-tangled  mesh 
Have  I,  poor  victim,  fallen  ? 

Saw'st  thou  not 
Long  since  that  thou  didst  speak  to  them  that  live 
As  they  were  dead  ? 

Ah  me  !     I  catch  thy  words. 
It  needs  must  be  that  he  who  speaks  to  me 
Is  named  Orestes. 

Wert  thou  then  deceived. 
Thou  excellent  diviner  ? 

Woe  is  me  ! 
I  perish,  yet  permit  me  first  to  speak 
One  little  word. 

Give  him  no  leave  to  speak. 
By  all  the  gods,  my  brother,  nor  to  spin 
His  long  discourse.     When  men  are  plunged  in  ills 
What  gain  can  one  who  stands  condemned  to  die 
Reap  from  delay  ?     No,  slay  him  out  of  hand  ; 
And,  having  slain  him,  cast  him  forth,  to  find 
Fit  burial  at  their  hands  from  whom  'tis  meet 
That  he  should  have  it,  far  away  from  view. 
Thus  only  shall  I  gain  a  remedy 
For  all  the  evils  of  the  years  gone  by. 
[To  ^gisthus.']     Go  thou  within,  and  quickly. 

Now  our  strife 
Is  not  of  words,  but  for  thy  life  itself. 
Why  dost  thou  force  me  in  ?     If  this  be  right. 
What  need  of  darkness  ?    Why  not  slay  at  once  ? 
Give  thou  no  orders,  but  where  did'st  slay 
My  father  go,  that  thou  too  there  may'st  die. 
Truly  the  doom  is  fixed,  this  house  should  see 
The  ills  that  on  the  house  of  Pelops  fall, 
Or  present,  or  to  come. 

Yes,  those  that  fall 
On  thee  :  of  these  I  am  a  prophet  true. 
Thou  boastest  of  a  skill  which  he  had  not 
Thy  father. 

Still  thou  handiest  many  words, 
And  length'nest  out  the  way.     Move  on. 

Lead  thou. 
Not  so,  thou  must  go  first. 


\ 


V 


Ores, 
^gis. 

Ores. 

yEgis. 
Ores, 

^gis. 

Ores, 

^gis. 

Ores. 
yEgis. 

Elec. 


41 


^gis.  Dost  think  I'll  flee  ? 

Ores.      Thou  must  not  die  the  death  thou  would'st  desire. 
I  needs  must  make  it  utter.     Doom  like  this 
Should  fall  on  all  who  dare  transgress  the  laws. 
The  doom  of  death.     Then  wickedness  no  more 
Would  multiply  its  strength. 

Chor.     O  seed  of  Atreus,  after  many  woes. 

Thou  hast  come  forth,  thy  freedom  hardly  won. 
By  this  emprise  made  perfect ! 


1474 


Ores. 

^gis. 
Ores, 

yEgis. 

Ores. 

yEgis. 

Ores. 

yEgis. 
Ores. 


43 


\ 


THE  ELECTRA   OF    EURIPIDES* 

PROLOGUE 

The  Scene  is  in  front  of  a  Peasant's  Cottage  :  the  Centre  is  the  door  of 
the  Cottage^  the  scene  on  the  two  sides  of  it  represents  the  way  to  dif- 
ferent fields.     Time:  early  Morning^  the  stars  still  shining. 

Enter  from  the  Cottage  the  Peasant  on  his  way  to  his  day's  work.  In 
the  form  of  a  Morning  Prayer  to  the  stream  Inachus,  he  makes  known  the 
situation  of  affairs,  the  murder  of  Agamemnon,  etc.— and  in  particular  how 
i^gisthus,  fearing  lest  some  nobleman  might  marry  Electra  and  be  her 
avenger,  had  forced  her  into  wedlock  with  himself,  a  peasant,  honest  but  in 
the  lowest  poverty.  But  he  is  too  good  a  friend  to  his  master's  house  and 
to  the  absent  Orestes  to  wrong  Electra ;  he  has  been  a  husband  only  in 
name,  to  give  her  the  shelter  of  his  humble  roof.  Enter  Electra  from  the 
Cottage  with  a  watering  pot :  not  seeing  the  Peasant  she  in  a  similar 
soliloquy  announces  that  she  is  on  her  way  to  the  river  to  prosecute  her 
unnatural  toil. 

Peas.    Why  will  thou  thus,  unhappy  lady,  toil 
For  my  sake  bearing  labours,  nor  desist 
At  my  desire  ?    Not  thus  hast  thou  been  train'd. 

Elec.     Thee  equal  to  the  gods  I  deem  my  friend, 
For  in  my  ills  thou  hast  not  treated  me 
With  insult.     In  misfortunes  thus  to  find 
What  I  have  found  in  thee,  a  gentle  pow'r, 
Lenient  of  grief,  must  be  a  mighty  source 
Of  consolations.     It  behoves  me  then 
Far  as  my  pow'r  avails,  to  ease  thy  toils, 
That  lighter  thou  may'st  feel  them,  and  to  share 
Thy  labour,  though  unbidden ;   in  the  fields 
Thou  hast  enough  of  work ;  be  it  my  task 
Within  to  order  well.     The  lab'rer  tired 
Abroad,  with  pleasure  to  his  house  returns. 
Accustom'd  all  things  grateful  there  to  find. 

Peas.    Go  then,  since  such  thy  will ;  nor  distant  far 

The  fountain  from  the  house.     At  the  first  dawn 

My  bullocks  yoked  I  to  the  field  will  drive. 

And  sow  my  furrows ;  for  no  idle  wretch 

With  the  gods  always  in  the  mouth  can  gain 

Without  due  labour  the  support  of  life.  95 

Stage  vacant  a   moment.     Then   enter  by   Distance-door   Orestes  and 
Pylades. 

Orestes  in  conversation  with  his  friend  makes  known  he  is  come  by  Divine 
command  to  avenge  his  father's  death  :  he  has  fulfilled  the  god's  first 
charge  to  present  offerings  on  his  father's  tomb ;  the  second  is  that  he  must 
not  enter  the  walls  of  the  city ;   thus  he  wishes  to  find  his  sister— now,  as 

♦The  quotations  of  Euripides  are  from  Potter's  translation. 


43 

hears,  wedded  to  a  peasant  !-and  consult-they  step  aside  as  they  see  one 
whom    female  slave  her  tresses  show '  approaching.  127 

Re-enter  Electra  with  her  water-pot  filled  :  and  in  a  Monody  (strophe,  anH- 
strophe  and  epode)  laments  her  situation :  laments  for  her  lost  father  her 
brother  afar  off,  in  servitude  it  may  be :  and  adjures  her  father's  spirit  to 
send  vengeance.  ^      o 

PARODE  JOINING   ON  TO   EPISODE    I 

Enter  the  Orchestra  Chorus  of  Maidens  of  Mycena,  and  in  dialogue  (two 
Strophes  and  Antistrophes)  beg  Electra  to  join  them  in  an  approaching  fes- 
tival, as  she  had  been  wont  in  happier  days.— Electra  declares  she  is  fit  for 
tears  and  rags,  not  for  festivities.— As  for  rags  they  will  find  her  the  festal 
robes ;  and  vows,  instead  of  tears  may  gain  the  goddess's  help.— No  God 
says  Electra,  has  an  ear  for  the  wretched,  and  in  wretched  toil  and  obscure 
retreat  her  life  is  wasting  away.— ^  sob  from  the  concealed  Orestes  startles 
them,  and  they  are  about  to  flee,  when  Orestes  and  Pylades  discover  them- 
selves and  reassure  them.  With  difficulty  he  restrains  his  emotions  through- 
out a  long  conversation,  personating  a  messenger  from  himself  to  Electra. 


Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec. 

Ores. 

Elec, 


Bearing  thy  brother's  words  to  thee  I  come. 

Most  welcome:  breathes  he  yet  this  vital  air? 

He  lives  :  I  first  would  speak  what  brings  thee  joy. 

Oh  be  thou  blest  for  these  most  grateful  words! 

To  both  in  common  this  I  give  to  share. 

Where  is  th'  unhappy  outcast  wand'ring  now? 

He  wastes  his  life  not  subject  to  one  state. 

Finds  he  with  toil  what  life  each  day  requires? 

Not  so  ;  but  mean  the  wand'ring  exile's  state. 

But  with  what  message  art  thou  from  him  charg'd? 

T'  inquire,  if  living,  where  thou  bear'st  thy  griefs. 

First  then  observe  my  thin  and  wasted  state. 

Wasted  with  grief,  so  that  I  pity  thee. 

Behold  my  head,  its  crisped  honours  shorn. 

Mourning  thy  brother,  or  thy  father  dead? 

What  can  be  dearer  to  my  soul  than  these? 

Alas!  What  deem'st  thou  are  thy  brother's  thoughts? 

He,  though  far  distant,  is  most  dear  to  me. 

Why  here  thy  dwelling  from  the  city  far? 

O,  stranger,  in  base  nuptials  I  am  join'd— 

I  feel  thy  brother's  grief !— To  one  of  rank? 

Not  as  my  father  once  to  place  me  hop'd — 

That  hearing  1  may  tell  thy  brother,  speak. 

This  is  his  house:  in  this  I  dwell  remote. 

This  house  some  digger  or  some  herdsman  suits. 

Generous,  though  poor,  in  reverence  me  he  holds. 

To  thee  wnat  reverence  doth  thy  husband  pay? 

He  never  hath  presumed  t'  approach  my  bed. 


251 


The  conversation  is  prolonged,  bringing  out  for  the  benefit  of  the  Strangers 
and  the  Chorus  the  whole  of  Electra's  troubles,  and  how  her  father's  blood 
IS  crying  for  vengeance. 

"^^^'  The  monarch's  tomb 

Unhonoured,  nor  libations  hath  receiv'd, 
Nor  myrtle  bough,  no  hallow'd  ornament 


44 


Hath  dignified  the  pyre.     Inflamed  with  wine, 

My  mother's  husband,  the  illustrious  lord. 

For  so  they  call  him,  trampled  on  the  earth 

Insultingly  where  Agammenon  lies, 

And,  hurling  'gainst  his  monument  a  stone, 

Thus  taunts  us  with  proud  scorn,  "  Where  is  thy  son, 

"Orestes  where?  right  noble  is  thy  tomb 

"  Protected  by  his  presence."     Thus  he  mocks 

The  absent ;  but,  O  stranger,  tell  him  this 

Suppliant  I  beg  thee. 


371 


Enter  unexpectedly  the  Peasant.  On  hearing  that  these  strangers  are 
messengers  from  Orestes,  he  instantly  calls  for  refreshments  to  be  brought, 
and  begs  the  stranger  to  delay  no  longer  to  enter  the  cottage  :  poverty  must 
be  no  excuse  for  not  offering  what  hospitality  he  has. — A  burst  of  admira- 
tion is  drawn  from  Orestes.  400 

Ores.    Nature  hath  giv'n  no  outward  mark  to  note 
The  generous  mind  ;  the  qualities  of  men 
To  sense  are  indistinct.     I  oft  have  seen 
One  of  no  worth  a  noble  father  shame. 
And  from  vile  parents  worthy  children  spring, 
Meanness  oft  grov'lling  in  the  rich  man's  mind, 
And  oft  exalted  spirits  in  the  poor. 
How  then  discerning  shall  we  judge  aright? 
By  riches?  ill  would  they  abide  the  test. 
By  poverty?  on  poverty  awaits 
This  ill,  through  want  it  prompts  to  sordid  deeds. 
Shall  we  pronounce  by  arms?  but  who  can  judge 
By  looking  on  the  spear  the  dauntless  heart? 
Such  judgment  is  fallacious  ;  for  this  man. 
Nor  great  among  the  Argives,  nor  elate 
With  the  proud  honours  of  his  house,  his  rank 
Plebeian,  hath  approv'd  his  liberal  heart. 
Will  you  not  then  learn  wisdom,  you  whose  minds 
Error  with  false  presentments  leads  astray? 
Will  you  not  learn  .by  manners  and  by  deeds 
To  judge  the  noble?    Such  discharge  their  trust 
With  honour  to  the  state  and  to  their  house. 
Mere  flesh  without  a  spirit  is  no  more 
Than  statues  in  the  forum  ;  nor  in  war 
Doth  the  strong  arm  the  dang'rous  shock  abide 
More  than  the  weak ;  on  nature  this  depends 
And  an  intrepid  mind.     But  we  accept 
Thy  hospitable  kindness  ;  for  the  son 
Of  Agamemnon,  for  whose  sake  we  come, 
Present  or  not  is  worthy  to  this  house. 
Go,  my  attendants,  I  must  enter  it ; 
This  man,  though  poor,  more  cheerful  than  the  rich 
Receives  me  ;  to  his  kindness  thanks  are  due. 
More  would  it  joy  me  if  thy  brother,  blest 
Himself,  could  lead  me  to  his  prosperous  house : 
Yet  haply  he  may  come  ;  th'  oracular  voice 
Of  Phcebus  firmly  will  be  ratified  : 

Lightly  of  human  prophecies  I  deem.  438 

\^Orestes  and  his  attendants  enter  the  house. 


45 

intf tfhilVcoTage'^  ^'  ^'^  '^'^  ^'  ^^^^^^  ''  ^^^^^^  ^^-^  --^^^ 
Peasant.     Why  not  ?     If  they  are  noble,  as  their  port 
Denotes  them,  will  they  not  alike  enjoy 
Contentment,  be  their  viands  mean  or  rich? 

1^X^^\^^^''''^  ^^^''^'''  can  think  of  is  to  send  to  an  old  servant  of  her 

fatal  nLht'"  no      '  '"'"'.  .^^^'  "'  '^^"/"^'  P^^^^^^^^  ^^e  child  Orestes  on  the 
fatal  night-now  an  aged  herdsman  forced  to  hide  himself  in  obscuritv  and 

?I  .?7rl'/  ^'^P;./^T  '"  ^h^^^^^^g-^^y-     E-it  Peasant  to  thT}7dlfind 
the  old  Tutor;  Electra  into  the  cottage.  ^cujuia 

474 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  I 

pw/J^'^k''^'  '^^  ^'l^l  ""^  '^^P'  ^^^^  ^^"t  t«  the  Trojan  War,  the  great 
ch  efs  who  commanded,  especially  Achilles,  whose   shield  they  have  feen 
with  Its  Gorgons,  and  Sphinxes,  and  Hermes  in  flight,  and  other  wondrous 
figures-suddenly  at  the  end  connects  itself  with  the  subject  of    hrplay  by 
t^^^^'^^  -'^  commanded  heroes\ike  these^th^t'^ 

•^  '  530 

EPISODE  II 

nf/Hf^^''''''  ^f'^f^f/^'  ^^'^  ^^^or,  tottering  under  the  weight  of  a  kid 
and  other  vtands,  dad  tn  rags,  and  in  tears.  Electra  wonders  why  he  wee p^ 
to  mourn  for  Agamemnon  or  Orestes  is  surely  now  to  mourn  in  va^       ^   ' 


->'  ■ 


Tut.  In  vain  ;  but  this  my  soul  could  not  support ; 
For  to  his  tomb  as  on  the  way  I  came, 
I  turned  aside,  and  falling  on  the  ground. 
Alone  and  unobserved,  indulg'd  my  tears ; 
Then  of  the  wine,  brought  for  thy  stranger  guests. 
Made  a  libation,  and  around  the  tomb 
Plac'd  myrtle  branches ;  on  the  pyre  I  saw 
A  sable  ewe,  yet  fresh  the  victim's  blood. 
And  clust'ring  auburn  locks  shorn  from  some  head  ; 
I  marvell'd,  O  my  child,  what  man  had  dar'd 
Approach  the  tomb,  for  this  no  Argive  dares. 
Perchance  with  secret  step  thy  brother  came 
And  paid  these  honors  to  his  father's  tomb. 
But  view  these  locks,  compare  them  with  thine  own. 
Whether  like  thine  their  color ;  nature  loves 
In  those  who  from  one  father  draw  their  blood 
In  many  points  a  likeness  to  preserve. 

Elec.  Unworthy  of  a  wise  man  are  thy  words. 

If  thou  canst  think  that  to  Mycence's  realms 
My  brother  e'er  with  secret  step  will  come. 
Fearing  .Egisthus.     Then  between  our  locks 
What  can  th'  agreement  be?     To  manly  toils 
He  in  the  rough  Palaestra  hath  been  train'd, 
Mine  by  the  comb  are  soften'd  ;  so  that  hence 
Nothing  may  be  inferr'd.     Besides,  old  man, 
Tresses  like-color'd  often  may'st  thou  find 
Where  not  one  drop  of  kindred  blood  is  shar'cl. 

Tut.  Trace  but  his  footsteps,  mark  th'  impression,  see 
If  of  the  same  dimensions  with  thy  feet. 

Elee.  How  can  th'  impression  of  his  foot  be  left 
On  hard  and  rocky  ground?    But  were  it  so, 


553 


46 


Brother  and  sister  never  can  have  foot 
Of  like  dimensions  :     larger  is  the  man's. 

Tut,  But  hath  thy  brother,  should  he  come,  no  vest 

Which  thou  wou'dst  know,  the  texture  of  thy  hands, 
In  which  whensnatch'd  from  death  he  was  array'd? 

Elec.  Know'st  thou  not,  when  my  brother  from  this  land 
Was  saved,  I  was  but  young?     But  were  his  vests 
Wrought  by  my  hands,  then  infant  as  he  was, 
How  could  he  now  in  his  maturer  age 
Be  in  the  same  array'd,  unless  his  vests 
Grew  with  his  person's  growth  ?    No,  at  the  tomb 
Some  stranger,  touch'd  with  pity,  sheared  his  locks, 
Or  native,  by  the  tyrant's  spies  unmark'd. 

Tut  Where  are  these  strangers  ?     I  would  see  them  :  much 
Touching  thy  brother  wish  I  to  inquire. 

Elec.  See,  from  the  house  with  hast'ning  step  they  come. 


599 


Re-enter  Orestes  and  Pylades:  Conversation  in  which  the  aged  Tutor  eyes 
him  curiously  all  over,  and  declares  he  is  Orestes— general  recognition  and 
burst  of  joy.— Then  they  turn  to  vengeance,  and  in  stichomuthic  dialogue 
lay  their  plans,  ^gisthus,  the  Tutor  says,  is  to  come  to  a  neighboring 
field  to  celebrate  a  sacrifice  ;  they  lay  apian  for  Orestes  and  Pylades  to  gain 
admission  as  travellers  and  kill  him  in  the  moment  of  sacrifice.  As  to 
Clytaemnestra :  a  report  is  prevalent  in  the  palace  that  Electra  has  given 
birth  to  a  child  ;  they  conspire  to  give  currency  to  the  report  and  invite 
Clytaemnestra  to  perform  the  ten  days'  rite  :  once  in  the  house,  Orestes  will 
do  the  dreadful  deed  ;  they  tremble  at  their  horrid  tasks,  but  their  father 
must  be  avenged.— Zi>^««/  Orestes  and  his  Attendants  to  the  fields  ;  and 
Electra  to  the  Cottage  begging  the  Chorus,  who  are  privy  to  all  this  as  con- 
fidential fnends,  to  keep  watch  and  summon  her  if  news  comes.  763 


Strophe  i. 


Aniis. 


CHORAL  INTERLUDE  II 

The  Argive  mountains  round, 
'Mongst  tales  of  ancient  days 
From  age  to  age  recorded  this  remains : 
Tuned  to  mellifluous  lays, 
Pan  taught  his  pipe  to  sound. 
And  as  he  breath'd  the  sprightly-swelling  strains. 
The  beauteous  ram,  with  fleece  of  gold, 
God  of  shepherds,  on  he  drove. 
The  herald  from  the  rock  above 
Proclaims,  "  Your  monarch's  wonders  to  behold, 
"  Wonders  to  sight,  from  which  no  terrors  flow, 
"Go,  Mycenceans,  to  th'  assembly  go." 
With  reverence  they  obey  the  call. 
And  fill  th'  Atridae's  spacious  hall. 
Its  gates  with  gold  o'erlaid. 
Wide  oped  each  Argive  shrine. 
And  from  the  altar  hallow'd  flames  arise  ; 
Amidst  the  rites  divine, 
Joying  the  Muse  to  aid, 
Breath'd  the  brisk  pipe  its  sweet  notes  to  the  skies ; 
Accordant  to  the  tuneful  strain 
Swell'd  the  loud  acclaiming  voice. 
Now  with  Thyestes  to  rejoice  : 
He,  all  on  fire  the  glonous  prize  to  gain. 


/ 


Strophe  2. 


Antis.  2. 


47 


With  secret  love  the  wife  of  Atreus  won. 
And  thus  the  shining  wonder  made  his  own ; 
Then  to  the  assembly  vaunting  cried, 
"  Mine  is  the  rich  Ram's  golden  pride." 
Then,  oh  then,  indignant  Jove 
Bade  the  bright  sun  backward  move. 
And  the  golden  orb  of  day. 
And  the  morning's  orient  ray ; 
Glaring  o'er  the  Western  sky' 
Hurl'd  his  ruddy  lightnings  fly  ; 
Clouds,  no  more  to  fall  in  rain. 
Northward  roll  their  deep'ning  train ; 
Libyan  Ammon's  thirsty  seat, 
Wither'd  with  the  scorching  heat. 
Feels  nor  show'rs  nor  heavenly  dews 
Grateful  moisture  round  diffuse. 
Fame  hath  said  (but  light  I  hold 
What  the  voice  of  fame  hath  told) 

That  the  sun,  retiring  far. 

Backward  roll'd  his  golden  car; 

And  his  vital  heat  withdrew, 

Sick'ning  man's  bold  crimes  to  view. 

Mortals,  when  such  tales  they  hear, 

Tremble  with  an  holy  fear, 

And  th'  offended  gods  adore  ; 

She,  this  noble  pair  who  bore, 

Dar'd  to  murder,  deed  abhorr'd  1 

This  forgot,  her  royal  lord. 

EPISODE  III 


81S 


As  the  Ode  is  concluding,  shouts  are  heard  from  the  direcHon  of  thp  fi^M 
where  the  sacrifice  is:  Chorus  summon  Electra.  ^^'^'^^^^  of  the  field 

After  a  brief  conversation,  a  Messenger  arrives  breathless,  and  after  raoidlv 
fnl/.V  "^.^.^ihat^gisthus  has  fallen,  is  encouraged  to  tell  thrs^^^^^^^ 
at  length,  which  he  does  in  the  regular  '  Messenger's  Speech.' 

Mess.    Departing  from  this  house,  the  level  road  g/ic 

We  enter'd  soon,  mark'd  by  the  chariot  wheel 

On  either  side.     Mycenae's  noble  king 

Was  there,  amidst  his  gardens  with  fresh  streams 

Irxiguous  walking,  and  the  tender  boughs 

Of  myrtles,  for  a  wreath  to  bind  his  head. 

He  cropt ;  he  saw  us,  he  address'd  us  thus 

Aloud  ;     Hail,  strangers ;  who  are  ye,  and  whence 

Come,  from  what  country?    Then  Orestes  said. 

1  hessahans ;  victims  to  Olympian  Jove 

We  at  the  stream  of  Alpheus  go  to  slay. 

The  King  replied.  Be  now  my  guests,  and  share 

Ihe  feast  with  me  ;  a  bullock  to  the  Nymphs 
I  sacrifice ;  at  morn's  first  dawn  arise, 
Then  shall  you  go  ;  but  enter  now  my  house. 
Thus  as  he  spoke,  he  took  us  by  the  hand 
And  led  us,  nothing  loth  :  beneath  his  roof 
Soon  as  we  came,  he  bade  his  slaves  prepare 
Baths  for  the  strangers,  that,  the  altars  nigh. 


/ 


48 


Beside  the  lustral  ewers  they  might  stand. 

Orestes  then,  With  lavers  from  the  pure 

And  living  stream  we  lately  have  been  cleansed : 

But  with  thy  citizens  these  rites  to  share, 

If  strangers  are  permitted,  we,  O  King, 

Are  ready  to  thy  hospitable  feast. 

Nothing  averse.     The  converse  here  had  end. 

Their  spears,  with  which  they  guard  the  king,  aside 

Th'  attendants  laid,  and  to  their  office  all 

Applied  their  hands ;  some  led  the  victim,  some 

The  baskets  bore,  some  rais'd  the  flames  and  plac'd 

The  cauldrons  on  the  hearth ;  the  house  resounds. 

Thy  mother's  husband  on  the  altars  cast 

The  salted  cakes,  and  thus  address'd  his  vows : 

Ye  Nymphs  that  haunt  the  rocks,  these  hallow'd  rites 

Oft  let  me  pay,  and  of  my  royal  spouse 

Now  absent,  both  by  fortune  blest  as  now ; 

And  let  our  foes  as  now,  in  ruin  lie  ; 

Thee  and  Orestes  naming.     But  my  Lord, 

Far  other  vows  address'd,  but  gave  his  words 

No  utt'rance,  to  regain  his  father's  house. 

i^gisthus  then  the  sacrificing  sword 

Took  from  the  basket,  from  the  bullock's  front 

To  cut  the  hair,  which  on  the  hallow'd  fire 

With  his  right  hand  he  threw ;  and,  as  his  slaves 

The  victim  held,  beneath  its  shoulder  plung'd 

The  blade  ;  then  turning  to  thy  brother  spoke  : 

Among  her  noble  arts  Thessalia  boasts 

To  rein  the  fiery  courser,  and  with  skill 

The  victim's  limbs  to  sever  ;  stranger,  take 

The  sharp-edg'd  steel  and  show  that  fame  reports 

Of  the  Thessalians  truth.     The  Doric  blade 

Of  temper'd  metal  in  his  hand  he  grasp'd. 

And  from  his  shoulders  threw  his  graceful  robe ; 

Then  to  assist  him  in  the  toilsome  task 

Chose  Pylades,  and  bade  the  slaves  retire  : 

The  victim's  foot  he  held,  and  its  white  flesh. 

His  hand  extending,  bared,  and  stript  the  hide 

E'er  round  the  course  the  chariot  twice  could  roll, 

And  laid  the  entrails  open.     In  his  hands 

The  fate-presaging  parts  yEgisthus  took, 

Inspecting :  in  the  entrails  was  no  lobe  ; 

The  valves  and  cells  the  gall  containing  show 

Dreadful  events  to  him,  that  view'd  them,  near. 

Gloomy  his  visage  darken'd ;  but  my  lord 

Ask'd  whence  his  sadden'd  aspect :     He  replied  — 

Stranger,  some  treachery  from  abroad  I  fear ; 

Of  mortal  men  Orestes  most  I  hate. 

The  son  of  Agamemnon ;  to  my  house 

He  is  a  foe.     Wilt  thou,  replied  my  lord, 

King  of  this  state,  an  exile's  treachery  dread  ? 

But  that,  these  omens  leaving,  we  may  feast. 

Give  me  a  Phthian  for  this  Doric  blade, 

The  breast  asunder  I  will  cleave.    He  took 

The  steel  and  cut.     iEgisthus,  yet  intent, 

Parted  the  entrails ;  and,  as  low  he  bow'd 


49 


His  head,  thy  brother,  rising  to  the  stroke. 

Drove  through  his  back  the  ponderous  axe,  and  riv'd 

The  spinal  joints  :  his  heaving  body  writh'd 

And  quiver'd,  struggling  in  the  pangs  of  death. 

The  slaves  beheld,  and  instant  snatched  their  spears, 

Many  'gainst  two  contesting  ;  but  my  lord 

And  Pylades  with  dauntless  courage  stood 

Oppos'd,  and  shook  their  spears.    Orestes  then 

Thus  spoke:     I  come  not  to  this  state  a  foe, 

Nor  to  my  servants ;  but  my  father's  death 

I  on  his  murderer  have  aveng'd ;  you  see 

Th*  unfortunate  Orestes :  kill  me  not. 

My  father's  old  attendants.    At  these  words 

They  all  restrain'd  their  spears,  and  he  was  known 

By  one  grown  hoary  in  the  royal  house. 

Crowns  on  thy  brother's  head  they  instant  plac'd 

With  shouts  of  joy.     He  comes,  and  with  him  brings 

Proof  of  his  daring,  not  a  Gorgon's  head. 

But  whom  thou  hat'st,  ^gisthus :  blood  for  blood. 

Bitter  requital,  on  the  dead  has  fall'n. 


939 


General  exultation  (in  Lyric  measures)  succeeds,  which  increases  as 
Orestes  and  Pylades  re-enter  bearing  the  corpse  of  yEgisthus.  After  brief  cele- 
bration of  the  deed  the  face  of  the  corpse  is  uncovered,  and  Electra,  gazing 
at  it,  gives  vent  to  her  scorn  and  hatred  :  how  he  had  slain  a  hero,  made  her 
an  orphan,  lived  in  shame  with  her  mother,  enjoying  and  trusting  in  her 
father's  wealth :  but 

Nature  is  firm,  not  riches  :  she  remains 

For  ever,  and  triumphant  lifts  her  head. 

But  unjust  wealth,  which  sojourns  with  the  base. 

Glitters  for  some  short  space,  then  flies  away. 

His  efEeminate  manners  are  more  than  maiden  tongue  may  speak  of ;  beauty 
graced  his  perfect  form : 

But  be  not  mine  a  husband,  whose  fair  face 
In  softness  with  a  virgin's  vies,  but  one 
Of  manly  manners  ;  for  the  sons  of  such 
By  martial  toils  are  trained  to  glorious  deeds ; 
The  beauteous  only  the  dance  give  grace. 

Let  the  wicked  in  future  learn  they  are  not  secure  till  the  goal  of  life  is 
reached.  1092 

Clytsemnestra  is  then  seen  approaching  :  they  hurry  Orestes  in ;  his  heart 
fails  him  at  the  thought  of  his  mother ;  with  difficulty  Electra  rouses  him  to 
his  appointed  vengeance.  [Exeunt  all  but  Electra  into  the  Cottage.  Enter 
Clytcemnestra  in  a  Chariot  and  splendid  array. ^  The  Chorus  welcome  her, 
and  she  begs  their  aid  to  alight. —  Electra  thrusts  herself  forward  clad  in 
rags  as  she  is,  and  begs  that  she  too  may  assist. — Clyt.  feels  the  impropriety 
of  the  scene,  and  falls  into  an  apologetic  tone ;  it  was  Electra's  father  who, 
by  his  injustice  to  Iphigenia,  was  the  real  cause  of  Electra's  trouble.  This 
leads  to  the  usual  judicial  disputation :  Clyt.  pleading  that  this  sacrifice  of 
her  daughter  was  done  not  for  a  good  cause,  but  for  the  wanton  Helen ;  this 
sacrifice  she  had  avenged,  and  to  avenge  it  must  join  an  enemy,  not  a  friend, 
of  Agamemnon. —  Electra^  after  getting  permission,  replies :  Helen  not  the 
only  wanton  one  of  her  family ;  if  no  motive  but  vengeance,  why  begin  to 
adorn  as  soon  as  Agamemnon  was  out  of  the  way,  why  rejoice  whenever  the 


50 


51 


Trojans  prospered,  why  go  on  to  persecute  Orestes  and  herself,  nay,  why  not 
slay  i^gisthus  for  persecuting  these  her  children  ?  The  sight  of  Electra's 
miserable  condition  makes  even  Clyt.  feel  compunction  :  she  has  been  too 
harsh,  she  will  be  kinder  now,  and  so  shall  yEgisthus  —  Electra  replying  to 
all  that  it  is  too  late.  At  last  Clyt.  prepares  to  go  within  the  house  and  per- 
form the  rite  for  Electra;  then  she  will  join  her  husband.  Exeunt  Attend' 
ants  with  Charioty  and  Electra  ushers  Clytcemnestra  into  the  Cottage, 

Lei  my  poor  house  receive  thee  ;  but  take  heed 

Lest  thy  rich  vests  the  blackening  smoke  defiles. — 

There  shalt  thou  sacrifice,  as  to  the  gods 

Behoves  thee  sacrifice :  the  basket  there 

Is  for  the  rites  prepared,  and  the  keen  blade 

Which  struck  the  bull ;  beside  him  shalt  thou  fall 

By  a  like  blow ;  in  Pluto's  courts  his  bride 

He  shall  receive,  with  whom  in  heav'n's  fair  light 

Thy  couch  was  shared  :  to  thee  this  grace  I  give, 

Thou  vengeance  for  my  father  shalt  give  me. 


1274 


CHORAL  INTERLUDE  III 


The  waves  of  mischief  are  flowing  back,  the  gale  of  Violence  is  veering : 
Vengeance  for  the  crime  of  old  standing  is  come  at  last.  1298 

EXODUS,  OR  FINALE 

Cries  are  heard  from  within  :  the  Chorus  know  that  the  deed  is  done. 

By  the  machinery  of  the  roller-stage  the  interior  of  the  Cottage  is  displayed^ 
with  Orestes  and  Electra  standing  over  the  corpse  of  Clytamnestra. 

A  revulsion  of  feeling  has  come  over  them :  they  did  the  deed  in  frenzy ; 
now,  instead  of  triumph,  they  have  no  thoughts  but  for  the  act  they  have 
done,  and  how  they  will  carry  a  curse  with  them  ever  after,  and  all  will  shun 
them.     With  horror  they  recall  the  details  of  the  scene  : 


Ores,  Didst  thou  see  her  when  she  drew 

Her  vests  aside,  and  bared  her  breasts,  and  bow'd 
To  earth  her  body  whence  I  drew  my  birth, 
Whilst  in  her  locks  my  furious  hand  I  wreath'd  ? 

Elec.  With  anguish'd  mind,  I  know,  thou  didst  proceed, 
When  heard  thy  wailing  mother's  piteous  cries. 

Ores.  These  words,  whilst  with  her  hands  she  strok'd  my  cheeks, 
Burst  forth,  "  Thy  pity  I  implore,  my  son  ; " 
Soothing  she  spoke,  as  on  my  cheeks  she  hung. 
That  bloodless  from  my  hand  the  sword  might  fall. 

Char.  Wretched  Electra,  how  could'st  thou  sustain 

A  sight  like  this  ?    How  bear  thy  mother's  death, 
Seeing  her  thus  before  thine  eyes  expire  ? 

Ores.  Holding  my  robe  before  mine  eyes,  I  rais'd 

The  sword  and  plung'd  it  in  my  mother's  breast. 

Etec.  I  urged  thee  to  it,  I  too  touch'd  the  sword. 

Chor.  Of  deeds  most  dreadful  this  which  thou  hast  done. 
Cover  thy  mother's  body  ;  in  her  robes 
Decent  compose  her  wounded  limbs. — Thou  gav'st 
Being  to  those  who  were  to  murder  thee. 


1338 


DIVINE  INTERVENTION 

Suddenly  over  the  Permanent  Scene  two  Supernatural  Beings  appear  and 
move  along,  recognized  by  the  Chorus  as  Castor  and  Pollux,  the  Family 
^^^''  1364 

Hear,  son  of  Agamemnon :  for  to  thee 

Thy  mother's  brothers,  twin-born  sons  of  Jove 

Castor,  and  this  my  brother  Pollux,  speak. 

Late,  having  calmed  the  ocean  waves,  that  swell'd 

The  lab'ring  vessel  menacing,  we  came 

To  Argos,  where  our  sister  we  beheld. 

Thy  mother,  slain :  with  justice  vengeance  falls 

On  her ;  in  thee  unholy  is  the  deed. 

Yet  Phoebus,  Phoebus— but,  my  king  is  he ; 

I  will  be  silent ;  yet,  though  wise,  he  gave 

To  thee  response  not  wise ;  but  I  must  praise 

Perforce  these  things.     Thou  now  must  do  what  Fate 

And  Jove  decree. 

Electra  is  to  marry  Pylades,  and  Orestes  to  flee  to  Athens  and  be  purified  by 
the  Court  on  the  Hill  of  Mars  :  Apollo  assisting.  Orestes'  future  life  is  fore- 
told [thus  working  out  various  details  of  the  Orestes  legends].— With  awe 
Orestes,  Electra,  and  Chorus  enter  into  converse  with  the  gods,  and  the  word 
IS  confirmed.  They  failed  to  avert  the  trouble  from  their  house  on  account  of 
dire  Fate  and  '  the  voice  unwise  of  Phoebus  from  his  shrine.'  There  has 
been  a  Demon  hostile  to  Electra's  parents.— Then  the  brother  and  sister's 
thoughts  turn  to  the  life-long  separation,  and  the  painful  wandering  sorrows 
e  en  to  the  gods  mournful  to  hear.  Farewell  to  Argos  :  the  Gods  hurry 
Orestes  away  for  the  Furies  are  already  on  his  track,  and  conclude : 

To  the  impious  thro'  the  ethereal  tract 

We  no  assistance  bring :  but  those  to  whom 

Justice  and  sanctity  of  life  is  dear. 

We  from  their  dangerous  toils  relieve  and  save. 

Let  no  one  then  unjustly  will  to  act. 

Nor  in  one  vessel  with  the  perjured  sail : 

A  god  to  mortals  this  monition  gives. 


Chor. 


Oh,  be  you  blest !    And  those,  to  whom  is  given 
Calmly  the  course  of  mortal  life  to  pass. 
By  no  affliction  sunk,  pronounce  we  blest. 


/ 


\ 


sa 


THE  ALCESTIS  OF  EURIPIDES* 


MEMORANDUM 

Of  the  Story  as  it  would  be  traditionally  familiar  to  the  Audience 
before-hand. — Admetus  was  the  splendid  King  of  PhercSy  so  famous 
for  the  sacred  rites  of  Hospitality  that  he  had  Sons  of  the  Gods  for 
Guests^  and  the  God  of  Brightness,  Apollo^  himself  while  he  sojourned 
on  earth  chose  Admetus^  s  household  to  dwell  in.  In  the  full  tide  of  his 
greatness  the  time  came  for  him  to  die  :  Apollo  interposed  for  his 
chief  votary,  and  won  from  the  Fates  that  he  might  die  by  substitute. 
But  none  ivas  found  willing  to  be  the  victim^  not  even  his  aged 
parents  :  at  last  Alcestis  his  wife,  young  and  bright  as  himself  gave 
herself  for  her  husband  and  died.  Then  another  Guest-Friend  of 
Admetus  came  to  the  rescue,  Jupiter's  own  son  Hercules,  and  by  main 
force  wrested  Alcestis  from  the  grasp  of  Deaths  and  restored  her 
to  her  husband. 

PROLOGUE 

Scene  :  Phera  in  Thessaly.  The  early  morning  sunshine  blazes 
full  on  the  Royal  Palace  of  the  Glorious  Admetus,  and  on  the  statues^ 
conspicuous  in  front  of  it,  of  Jupiter  Lord  of  Host  and  Guest,  and 
Apollo  :  nevertheless  the  Courtyard  is  silent  and  deserted. — At  last 
Apollo  himself  is  seen,  not  aloft  in  the  air  as  Gods  were  wont  to  appear, 
but  on  the  threshold  of  the  Central  Gate. 

Apollo  meditates  on  his  happy  associations  with  the  house  he  is  quitting. 
How  when  there  was  trouble  in  heaven,  and  he  himself,  for  resisting  Jove's 
vengeance  on  the  Healer  ^sculapius,  was  doomed  to  a  year's  slavery 
amongst  mortal  men,  he  had  bound  himself  as  herdsman  to  Admetus,  and 
Admetus  exercised  his  lordship  with  all  reverence  : 


A  holy  master  o'er  his  holy  slave. 


13 


How  again  when  trouble  came  to  Admetus  he  had  saved  him  from  the  day 
of  death,  on  condition  that  another  would  die  in  his  stead. 


His  friends,  his  father,  e'en  the  aged  dame 
That  gave  him  birth  were  asked  in  vain  :  not  one 
Was  found,  his  wife  except. 


19 


The  dreadful  day  has  come,  and  Alcestis  is  at  this  moment  breathing  her 
last  in  the  arms  of  her  husband :  and  he  himself  must  leave  his  loved 
friend,  for  Deity  may  not  abide  in  the  neighborhood  of  death's  pollution.  27 

Suddenly,  the  hideous  Phantom  of  Death  becomes  visible,  ascending 
the  Steps  of  the  Dead  [from  below  the  Orchestra  on  to  the  Stage]  : 
his  pace  never  flags,  yet  he  cowers  like  all  things  of  darkness,  before 
the  Bow  of  Apollo. 

*  The  quotations  are  from  Potter's  Translation,  in  Routledge's  Universal  Library,  freely 
altered  in  parts  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  out  changes  of  metre,  etc.,  in  the  original.  The 
References  are  to  the  numbering  of  the  lines  in  Potter. 


53 

Death  reproaches  Apollo  with  haunting  the  dwellings  of  mortals,  and  with 
seeking  by  that  Bow  of  his  to  defraud  the  Infernal  Powers  of  their  due. 
Apollo  defends  himself :  he  is  but  visiting  friends  he  loves :  he  has  no 
thought  of  using  force.  But  would  he  could  persuade  Death  to  choose  his 
victims  according  to  the  law  of  nature,  and  slay  ripe  lingering  age  instead 
of  youth ! 

Death.    Greater  my  glory  when  the  youthful  die  !  58 

Apollo  appeals  to  self-interest :  more  sumptuous  obsequies  await  the  aged 
dead. — That,  answers  Death,  were  to  make  laws  in  favor  of  the  rich. — 
Apollo  condescends  to  ask  mercy  for  his  friend  as  a  favor;  but  favors. 
Death  sneers,  are  not  in  keeping  with  his  manners ;  and  taunts  Apollo  with 
his  helplessness  to  resist  fate.  The  taunt  rouses  Apollo  to  a  flash  of  pro- 
phecy (which  is  one  of  his  attributes),  giving  (as  the  Greek  stage  loved  to 
do)  a  glimpse  into  the  end  of  the  story. 

Apollo.    Yet,  ruthless  as  thou  art,  soon  wilt  thou  cease  67 

This  contest ;  such  a  man  to  Pherae's  house 

Comes He,  in  this  house 

A  welcome  guest  to  Admetus,  will  by  force 
Take  his  wife  from  thee ;  and  no  thanks  from  me 
Will  be  thy  due ;    yet  what  I  now  entreat 
Then  thou  wilt  yield,  and  1  shall  hate  thee  still. 

Apollo  moves  away  and  disappears  in  the  distance  [by  Left  Side-door], 
while  Death,  hurling  defiance  after  him,  waves  his  fatal  sword  and  crosses 
the  threshold.  gi 

PARODE,  OR  CHORUS-ENTRY 

Enter  the  Orchestra  [by  the  Right  Archway,  as  from  the  neighbor- 
hood] the  Chorus  :  Old  Men  of  Pherce,  come  to  enquire  how  it  is  with 
the  Queen  on  the  morning  of  this  appointed  day  of  her  death.  As 
usual  in  such  Chorus- Entries  their  chanting  is  accompanied  with 
music  and  gesture-dance  to  a  rhythm  traditionally  associated  with 
marching.  But  by  a  very  unusual  effect  they  enter  in  disordered 
ranks,  moving  in  two  loosely -formed  bodies  towards  the  Central  Altar. 

82 
I  St  Semichorus.    What  a  silence  encloses  the  Palace ! 

What  a  hush  in  the  house  of  Admetus  ! 
2nd  Semichorus.  Not  a  soul  is  at  hand  of  the  household 
To  answer  our  friendly  enquiry — 
Is  it  over,  all  over  but  weeping? 
Or  sees  she  the  light  awhile  longer. 
Our  Queen,  brightest  pattern  of  women 

The  wide  world  through, 
Most  devoted  of  wives,  our  Alcestis? 

Arriving  at  the  Altar  they  fall  for  a  time  into  compact  order,  and 
exchange  their  marching  rhythm  for  the  elaborate  Choral  ritual,  the 
evolutions  taking  them  to  the  Right  of  the  Orchestra.  89 

Strophe 

Listen  for  the  heavy  groan, 

Smitten  breast  and  piercing  moan, 

Ringing  out  that  life  is  gone. 
The  house  forgets  its  royal  state. 
And  not  a  slave  attends  the  gate. 
Our  sea  of  woe  runs  high  : — ah,  mid  the  waves 
Appear,  Great  Healer,  Apollo  ! 


Full  Chorus, 


Full  Chorus, 


54 

They  break  again  into  loose  order  and  inarching  rhythm^  remaining  on 
the  Right  of  the  Orchestra. 

1st  Semi.  Were  she  dead,  could  they  keep  such  a  silence  ?  94 

2nd  Semi.  May  it  be — she  is  gone  from  the  Palace  ? 

1st  Semi.  Never ! 

2nd  Semi.  Nay,  why  so  confident  answer  ? 

1st  Semi.  To  so  precious  a  corpse  could  Admetus 
Give  burial  bare  of  its  honours  ? 

They  reunite  in  Choral  order  and  work  back  to  the  Altar, 

Antistrophe 
Lo,  no  bath  the  porch  below,  99 

Nor  the  cleansing  fountain's  flow, 
Gloomy  rite  for  house  of  woe. 
The  threshold  lacks  its  locks  of  hair, 
Clipp'd  for  the  dead  in  death's  despair. 
Who  hears  the  wailing  voice  and  thud  of  hands. 
The  seemly  woe  of  the  maidens  ? 

At  the  Altar  they  again  break  up  and  fall  into  marching  rhythm, 

2nd  Semi.  Yet  to-day  is  the  dread  day  appointed —  105 

1st  Semi,  Speak  not  the  word  ! 
2nd  Semi.  The  day  she  must  pass  into  Hades — 
1st  Semi.  I  am  cut  to  the  heart ! 
I  am  cut  to  the  soul  I 
2nd  Semi.  When  the  righteous  endure  tribulation, 
Avails  nought  long-tried  love. 
Nought  is  left  to  the  friendly — but  mourning  ! 

Accordingly  they  address  themselves  to  a  Full  Choral  Ode,  the  evolutions 
carrying  them  to  the  extreme  Left  of  the  Orchestra  in  the  Strophe^  and 
in  the  Antistrophe  back  to  the  Altar. 


CHORAL  INTERLUDE  I 

Strophe 

In  vain — our  pious  vows  are  vain — 
Make  we  the  flying  sail  our  care, 
The  light  bark  bounding  o'er  the  main ; 
To  what  new  realm  shall  we  repair  ? 

To  Lycia's  hallow'd  strand  ? 
Or  where  in  solitary  state. 

Mid  thirsty  deserts  wild  and  wide 
That  close  him  round  on  every  side. 
Prophetic  Ammon  holds  his  awful  seat  ? 
What  charm,  what  potent  hand 
Shall  save  her  from  the  realms  beneath  ? 
He  comes,  the  ruthless  tyrant  Death : 
I  have  no  priest,  no  altar  more, 
Whose  aid  I  may  implore  ! 

Antistrophe 
O  that  the  Son  of  Phoebus  now 

Lived  to  behold  th'  ethereal  light ! 
Then  might  she  leave  the  seats  below, 
Where  Pluto  reigns  in  cheerless  night  I 
The  Sage's  potent  art, 


III 


121 


55 


Till  thund'ring  Jove's  avenging  pow'r 
Hurl'd  his  red  Thunders  at  his  breast, 
Could,  from  the  yawning  gulf  releast, 
To  the  sweet  light  of  life  the  dead  restore. 
Who  now  shall  aid  impart  ? 
To  ev'ry  god,  at  ev'ry  shrine, 
The  king  hath  paid  the  rites  divine  : 
But  vain  his  vows,  his  pious  care ; 
And  ours  is  dark  despair  ) 


EPISODE  I 

At  last  they  have  been  heard,  and  one  of  the  Queen's  Women  comes 
•weeping  from  the  Palace  [by  one  of  the  Inferior  Doors^  :  the  Chorus 
fall  into  their  Episode  position,  in  two  ranks,  betiveen  the  Altar  and 
the  Stage,  taking  part  by  their  Foreman  in  the  dialogue. 

The  Chorus  eagerly  enquire  whether  Alcestis  yet  lives.  138 

Attend.  As  living  may  I  speak  of  her,  and  dead. 
Cho.       Living  and  dead  at  once,  how  may  that  be  ? 
Attend.  E'en  now  she  sinks  in  death  and  breathes  her  last. 

They  join  in  extolling  her  heroic  devotion,  and  the  Attendant  tells  of  her 
bearing  on  this  day  of  Death,  which  she  celebrates  as  if  a  day  of  religious 
festival. 

When  she  knew  160 

The  destin'd  day  was  come,  in  fountain  water 
She  bath'd  her  lily-tinctur'd  limbs,  then  took 
From  her  rich  chests,  of  odorous  cedar  form'd, 
A  splendid  robe,  and  her  most  radiant  dress  ; 
Thus  gorgeously  array'd  she  stood  before 
The  hallow'd  flames,  and  thus  address'd  her  pray'r : 
"O  Queen,  I  go  to  the  infernal  shades  I 
Yet,  e'er  I  go,  with  reverence  let  me  breathe 
My  last  request:   Protect  my  orphan  children. 
Make  my  son  happy  with  the  wife  he  loves,  170 

And  wed  my  daughter  to  a  noble  husband : 
Nor  let  them,  like  their  mother,  to  the  tomb 
Untimely  sink,  but  in  their  native  land 
Be  blest  through  length'ned  life  to  honour'd  age." 
Then  to  each  altar  in  the  royal  house 
She  went,  and  crown'd  it,  and  address'd  her  vows, 
Plucking  the  myrtle  bough;  nor  tear,  nor  sigh 
Came  from  her,  neither  did  the  approaching  ill 
Change  the  fresh  beauties  of  her  vermeil  cheek. 
Her  chamber  then  she  visits,  and  her  bed ;  180 

There  her  tears  flow'd,  and  thus  she  spoke :  "  O  bed 
To  which  my  wedded  lord,  for  whom  I  die, 
Led  me  a  virgin  bride,  farewell ;  to  thee 
No  blame  do  I  impute,  for  me  alone 
Hast  thou  destroy'd ;  disdaining  to  betray 
Thee  and  my  lord,  I  die  :  to  thee  shall  come 
Some  other  woman,  not  more  chaste,  perchance 
More  happy  " — as  she  lay,  she  kissed  the  couch; 
And  bath'd  it  with  a  flood  of  tears ;  that  pass'd. 
She  left  her  chamber,  then  return'd,  and  oft  190 


56 

She  left  it,  oft  retum'd,  and  on  the  couch 
Fondly,  each  time  she  enter'd,  cast  herself. 
♦        Her  children,  as  they  hung  upon  her  robes, 

Weeping,  she  rais'd,  and  clasp'd  them  to  her  breast 

Each  after  each,  as  now  about  to  die. 

Each  servant  through  the  house  burst  into  tears 

In  pity  of  their  mistress ;  she  to  each 

Stretch'd  her  right  hand ;  nor  was  there  one  so  mean 

To  whom  she  spoke  not,  and  admitted  him 

To  speak  to  her  again.    Within  the  house  200 

So  stands  it  with  Admetus.     Had  he  died, 

His  woes  were  over :  now  he  lives  to  bear 

A  weight  of  pain  no  moment  shall  forget. 

Alcestis  is  wasting  away,  and  fading  with  swift  disease,  while  her  distracted 
husband  holds  her  in  his  arms,  entreating  impossibilities.  And  now  they 
are  about  to  bring  her  out,  for  the  dying  Alcestis  has  a  longing  for  one 
more  sight  of  heaven  and  the  radiant  morning.  The  Chorus  are  plunged 
in  despair :  how  will  their  king  bear  to  live  after  the  loss  of  such  a  wife  I 

235 
The  lamentations  rise  higher  still  as  the  Central  Gates  open  and  the  couch 
of  Alcestis  is  borne  out,  Admetus  holding  her  in  his  arms,  and  her  children 
clinging  about  her  ;  the  Stage  fills  with  weeping  frietids  and  attendants.  The 
whole  dialogue  falls  into  lyrical  measures  with  strophic  alternations  just  per- 
ceptible. Alcestis  commences  to  address  the  sunshine  and  fair  scenery  she 
has  come  out  to  view— when  the  scene  changes  to  her  dying  eyes,  and  she 
can  see  nothing  but  the  gloomy  river  the  dead  have  to  cross,  with  the  boat- 
man ready  waiting,  and  the  long  dreary  journey  beyond.  Dark  night  is 
creeping  over  her  eyes,  when  Admetus,  as  he  ever  mingles  his  passionate 
prayers  with  her  wanderings,  conjures  her  for  her  children's  sake  as  well  as 
his  own  not  to  forsake  them.  A  thought  for  her  children's  future  rouses  the 
mother  from  her  stupor,  and  she  rallies  for  a  solemn  last  appeal  \the  measure 
changing  to  blank  verse  to  mark  the  change  of  tone].  She  begins  to  recite 
the  sacrifice  she  is  making  for  her  lord  : 


I  die  for  thee,  though  free 
Not  to  have  died,  but,  from  Thessalia's  chiefs 
Preferring  whom  I  pleas'd,  in  royal  state 
To  have  lived  happy  here — I  had  no  will 
To  live  bereft  of  thee  with  these  poor  orphans — 
I  die  without  reluctance,  though  the  gifts 
Of  youth  are  mine  to  make  life  grateful  to  me. 
Yet  he  that  gave  thee  birth,  and  she  that  bore  thee. 
Deserted  thee,  though  well  it  had  beseem'd  them 
With  honour  to  have  died  for  thee,  t'  have  saved 
Their  son  with  honour,  glorious  in  their  death. 
They  had  no  child  but  thee,  they  had  no  hope 
Of  other  offspring,  should'st  thou  die  ;  and  I 
Might  thus  have  lived,  thou  mightst  have  lived  till  age 
Crept  slowly  on,  nor  wouldst  thou  heave  the  sigh 
Thus  of  thy  wife  deprived,  nor  train  alone 
Thy  orphan  children  : — but  some  God  appointed 
It  should  be  thus  :  thus  be  it. 


284 


290 


300 


All  this  is  the  basis  for  a  requital  she  demands  of  her  husband  :  that  he 
shall  let  her  children  be  lords  in  their  own  house,  and  not  set  over  them  the 
cruel  guardianship  of  a  step-mother. 


57 


325 

request  as 
dying  wife, 

334 


My  son  that  holds  endearing  converse  with  thee  315 

Hath  in  his  father  a  secure  protection ; 

But  who,  my  daughter,  shall  with  honour  guide 

Thy  virgin  years  ?     What  woman  shall  thou  find 

New-wedded  to  thy  father,  whose  vile  arts 

Will  not  with  slanderous  falsehoods  taint  thy  name. 

And  blast  thy  nuptials  in  youth's  freshest  bloom  ?  * 

For  never  shall  thy  mother  see  thee  led 

A  bride,  nor  at  thy  throes  speak  comfort  to  thee. 

Then  present  when  a  mother's  tenderness 

Is  most  alive :  for  I  must  die  ! 

The  Chorus  pledge  their  faith  that  the  king  will  honour  such  a 
long  as  reason  lasts.     Admetus  addresses  a  solemn  vow  to  his 
that  her  will  shall  be  done  : 

Living  thou  wast  mine. 
And  dead  thou  only  shalt  be  called  my  wife. 

It  will  be  only  too  easy  to  keep  such  a  pledge  as  that,   for  life  henceforth 
will  be  one  long  mourning  to  him. 

Hence  I  renounce 
The  feast,  the  cheerful  guest,  the  flow'ry  wreath,  350 

And  song  that  used  to  echo  through  my  house : 
For  never  will  I  touch  the  lyre  again. 
Nor  to  the  Libyan  flute's  sweet  measures  raise 
My  voice :  with  thee  all  my  delights  are  dead. 
Thy  beauteous  figure,  by  the  artist's  hand 
Skillfully  wrought,  shall  in  my  bed  be  laid ; 
By  that  reclining,  I  will  clasp  it  to  me, 
And  call  it  by  thy  name,  and  think  I  hold 
My  dear  wife  in  my  arms,  and  have  her  yet, 
Though  now  no  more  I  have  her :  cold  delight  360 

I  ween,  yet  thus  th'  affliction  of  my  soul 
I  shall  relieve,  and  visiting  my  dreams 
Shalt  thou  delight  me. 

O  for  the  power  of  Orpheus's  lyre,  that  might  rescue  thee  even  from  the 
realms  of  the  dead ! 


374 


But  there  await  me  till  I  die ;  prepare 

A  mansion  for  me,  as  again  with  me 

To  dwell ;  for  in  thy  tomb  I  will  be  laid. 

In  the  same  cedar,  by  thy  side  composed : 

For  e'en  in  death  I  will  not  be  disjoin'd 

From  thee  who  hast  alone  been  faithful  to  to  me  I 

As  the  Chorus  join  in  Admetus's  sorrow  the  pledge  is  reiterated,  and  the 
dying  mother  is  satisfied. 


Ale.    Thus  pledging,  from  my  hands  receive  thy  children, 
Adm.  A  much-loved  gift,  and  from  a  much-loved  hand  I 


386 


The  strength  Alcestis  had  summoned  for  her  last  effort  now  forsakes  her : 
she  sinks  rapidly. 

Ale.    A  heavy  weight  hangs  on  my  darkened  eye.  395 

If  thou  forsake  me  I  am  lost  indeed  I 
As  one  that  is  no  more  I  now  am  nothing. 

Ah,  raise  thy  face  !  forsake  not  thus  thy  children  f 
It  must  be  so  perforce :  farewell,  my  children. 


Adm. 
Ale. 
Adm. 
Ale. 


\ 


58 


59 


Adm.  Look  on  them,  but  a  look. 

Ale.  I  am  no  more. 

Advi.  How  dost  thou  ?    Wilt  thou  leave  us  so  ? 

Ale.  Farewell. 

Adm.  And  what  a  wretch,  what  a  lost  wretch  am  1 1 

Cho.     She's  gone  !     Thy  wife,  Admetus,  is  no  more  ! 

The  little  Son  flings  himself  passionately  on  the  corpse  [the  metre  breaking 
out  into  strophic  altemations\    ' 

Strophe 

Son.  O  my  unhappy  fate !  405 

My  mother  sinks  to  the  dark  realms  of  night, 
Nor  longer  views  this  golden  light ; 
But  to  the  ills  of  life  exposed 

Leaves  my  poor  orphan  state  ! 
Her  eyes,  my  father,  see,  her  eyes  are  closed. 
And  her  hand  nerveless  falls. 
Yet  hear  me,  O  my  mother,  hear  my  cries ! 

It  is  thy  son  who  calls. 
Who  prostrate  on  the  earth  breathes  on  thy  lips  his  sighs. 

Adm.  On  one  that  hears  not,  sees  not !     I  and  you 
Must  bend  beneath  affliction's  heaviest  load. 

Antistrophe 

Son,  Ah!  she  hath  left  my  youth —  417 

My  mother,  my  loved  mother  is  no  more — 
Left  me  my  sufferings  to  deplore, 
Left  me  a  heritage  of  woe : 

Who  shall  my  sorrows  soothe  ? 
Thou  too,  my  sister,  thy  full  share  shalt  know 
Of  grief,  thy  heart  to  rend. 
Vain,  O  my  father,  vain  thy  nuptial  vows, 

Brought  to  this  speedy  end  : 
For  when  my  mother  died  in  ruin  sanjc  our  house  1  425 

The  Chorus  [in  calm  blank  verse']  call  on  their  king  to  command  himself 
and  bear  what  many  have  had  to  bear  before. — Admetus  knows  he  must : 
this  calamity  has  not  come  without  notice.  He  rouses  himself  to  give 
orders  as  to  the  preparations  for  burial :  the  mourning  rites  shall  last  a 
whole  year,  and  shall  extend  throughout  the  whole  region  of  Thessaly : 
the  very  horses  shall  have  their  waving  manes  cut  close,  and  no  sound  of 
flute  or  instrument  of  joy  shall  be  heard  in  the  city.  445 

The  corpse  is  slowly  carried  outy  and  at  last  the  Stage  is  vacant. 
Then  the  Chorus  address  themselves  to  a  Choral  Ode  in  memory  of 
the  Spirit  now  passed  beneath  the  earth:  the  evolutions  as  usual, 
carrying  them  with  each  Strophe  to  one  end  of  the  Orchestra,  and 
with  the  Antistrophe  back  to  the  Altar. 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  II 
Strophe  I 

Immortal  bliss  be  thine,  446 

Daughter  of  Pelias,  in  the  realms  below, 

Immortal  pleasures  round  thee  flow. 
Though  never  there  the  sun's  bright  beams  shall  shine. 


Be  the  black-brow'd  Pluto  told, 
And  the  Stygian  boatman  old, 
Whose  rude  hands  grasp  the  oar,  the  rudder  guide. 

The  dead  conveying  o'er  the  tide, — 
Let  him  be  told,  so  rich  a  freight  before 
His  light  skiff  never  bore  ; 
Tell  him  that  o'er  the  joyless  lakes 
The  noblest  of  her  sex  her  dreary  passage  takes. 

Antistrophe 
Thy  praise  the  bards  shall  tell. 
When  to  their  hymning  voice  the  echo  rings. 

Or  when  they  sweep  the  solemn  strings. 
And  wake  to  rapture  the  seven-chorded  shell ; 
Or  in  Sparta's  jocund  bow'rs, 
Circling  when  the  vernal  hours 
Bring  the  Carnean  Feast,  whilst  through  the  night 

Full-orb'd  the  high  moon  rolls  her  light ; 
Or  where  rich  Athens,  proudly  elevate, 
Shows  her  magnific  state : 
Their  voice  thy  glorious  death  shall  raise, 
And  swell  th'  enraptured  strain  to  celebrate  thy  praise. 

Strophe  II 
O  that  I  had  the  pow'r. 
Could  I  but  bring  thee  from  the  shades  of  night, 

Again  to  view  this  golden  light. 
To  leave  that  boat,  to  leave  that  dreary  shore, 
Where  Cocytus,  deep  and  wide. 
Rolls  along  his  sullen  tide  I 
For  thou,  O  best  of  women,  thou  alone 

For  thy  lord's  life  daredst  give  thy  own. 
Light  lie  the  earth  upon  thy  gentle  breast. 
And  be  thou  ever  blest ! 
While,  should  he  choose  to  wed  again. 
Mine  and  his  children's  hearts  would  hold  him  in  disdain. 

Antistrophe 
When,  to  avert  his  doom. 
His  mother  in  the  earth  refused  to  lie ; 

Nor  would  his  ancient  father  die 
To  save  his  son  from  an  untimely  tomb ; 
Though  the  hand  of  time  had  spread 
Hoar  hairs  o'er  each  aged  head  : 
In  youth's  fresh  bloom,  in  beauty's  radiant  glow. 

The  darksome  way  thou  daredst  to  go. 
And  for  thy  youthful  lord's  to  give  thy  life. 
Be  ours  so  true  a  wife ! 
Though  rare  the  lot,  then  should  we  prove 
Th'  indissoluble  bond  of  faithfulness  and  love. 


458 


470 


482 


493 


EPISODE  II 

Enter  on  the  Stage  through  the  distance-entrance  [Left  Side-door]  the 
colossal  figure  of  Hercules.  Here  is  the  turning-point  of  the  play: 
which  has  the  peculiarity  of  combining  an  element  of  the  Satyric 
Drama  {or  Burlesque)  with  Tragedy,  the  combination  anticipating 
the  'Action- Drama '  {or  *  Tragi-  Comedy ' )  of  modern  times.    Accord- 


c 


60 


61 


ingfy  the  costume  and  mask  of  Hercules  are  compounded  of  his  conven- 
tional appearance  in  Tragedy^  in  which  he  is  conceived  as  the  perfection 
of  physical  strength  toiling  and  suffering  for  mankind^  and  his  conven- 
tional appearance  in  Satyric  plays  as  the  gigantic  feeder^  etc.  The  two 
are  harmonized  in  the  conception  of  conscious  energy  rejoicing  in  itself 
and  plunging  with  equal  eagerness  into  duty  and  relaxation  y  while  each 
lasts. 

Hercules  hails  the  Chorus  and  enquires  for  Admetus.  They  reply  that  he  is 
within  the  Palace,  and  [shrinking,  like  all  Greeks,  from  being  the  first  to 
tell  evil  tidings]  turn  the  conversation  by  enquiring  what  brings  the  Demi- 
god to  Pherae — in  stichomuthic  dialogue  it  is  brought  out  that  Hercules  is 
on  his  way  to  one  of  his  *  Labors ' — that  of  the  Thracian  Steeds  ;  and  (so 
lightly  does  the  thought  of  toil  sit  on  him)  it  appears  he  has  not  troubled  to 
enquire  what  the  task  meant :  from  the  Chorus  he  learns  for  the  first  time 
the  many  dangers  before  him,  and  how  the  Steeds  are  devourers  of  human 
flesh. 


Here.  A  toil  you  tell  of  that  well  fits  my  fate. 

My  life  of  hardship,  ever  struggling  upward. 


517 


Admetus  now  appears,  in  mourning  garb :  after  first  salutations  between  the 
two  friends,  Hercules  enquires  what  his  trouble  is,  which  gives  scope  for 
a  favorite  effect  in  Greek  Drama — *  dissimulation.' 


Here.  Why  are  thy  locks  in  sign  of  mourning  shorn? 

Adm.  'Tis  for  one  dead,  whom  I  to-day  must  bury. 

Here.  The  Gods  avert  thy  mourning  for  a  child  ! 

Adm.  My  children,  what  I  had,  live  in  my  house. 

Here.  Thy  aged  father,  haply  he  is  gone. 

Adm.  My  father  lives,  and  she  that  bore  me  lives. 

Here.  Lies  then  thy  wife  Alcestis  mongst  the  dead? 

Adm.  Of  her  I  have  in  double  wise  to  speak. 

Here.  As  of  the  living  speakst  thou,  or  the  dead? 

Adm.  She  is,  and  is  no  more  :  this  grief  afflicts  me. 

Here.  This  gives  no  information  :  dark  thy  words. 

Adm.  Knowst  thou  not  then  the  destiny  assign 'd  her? 

Here.  I  know  that  she  submits  to  die  for  thee. 

Adm.  To  this  assenting  is  she  not  no  more? 

Here.  Lament  her  not  too  soon  :  await  the  time. 

Adm.  She's  dead  :  one  soon  to  die  is  now  no  more. 

Here.  It  differs  wide  to  be,  and  not  to  be. 

Adm.  Such  are  thy  sentiments,  far  other  mine. 

Here.  But  wherefore  are  thy  tears?  What  man  is  dead? 

Adm.  A  woman  :  of  a  woman  I  made  mention. 

Here,  Of  foreign  birth,  or  one  allied  to  thee  ? 

Adm.  Of  foreign  birth,  but  to  my  home  most  dear. 


530 


540 


550 


Hercules  is  moving  away  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  hospitality  elsewhere  : 
Admetus  will  not  hear  of  it,  and,  when  Hercules  loudly  protests,  puts  aside 
his  opposition  with  the  air  of  one  whose  authority  in  matters  of  hospitable 
rites  is  not  to  be  disputed.  He  orders  attendants  to  conducts  Hercules  to  a 
distant  quarter  of  the  Palace,  to  spread  a  sumptuous  feast,  and  bar  fast  the 
doors,  lest  the  voice  of  woe  should  affect  the  feasting  guest.  When  Her- 
cules is  gone  the  Chorus  are  staggered  by  such  a  mastery  of  personal  grief 
as  this  implies.  But  Admetus  asks  how  could  he  let  a  guest  depart  from 
his  house  ? 

My  affliction  would  not  thus  575 

Be  less,  but  more  unhospitable  I. 


But  why,  the  Chorus  ask,  conceal  the  truth?— His  friend,  answers  Admetus 
would  never  have  entered,  had  he  known.  Some  may  blame  him,  he  con- 
tinues, but  his  house  simply  knows  not  how  to  do  dishonor  to  a  guest. — 
Admetus  returns  into  the  Palace,  to  his  funeral  preparations :  the  Chorus 
are  moved  to  enthusiasm  by  this  forgetfulness  of  self  in  hospitable  devo- 
tion ;  their  enthusiasm  breaks  out  in  an  Ode  celebrating  the  glories  of  their 
king's  hospitality  in  the  past,  and  ending  in  a  gleam  of  hope  that  it  may 
yet  do  something  for  him  in  the  future.  588 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  III 
Evolutions  J  etc.^  as  usual. 

Strophe  I 

O  liberal  house  !  with  princely  state  589 

To  many  a  stranger,  many  a  guest, 
Oft  hast  thou  oped  thy  friendly  gate, 

Oft  spread  the  hospitable  feast. 
Beneath  thy  roof  Apollo  deign'd  to  dwell. 

Here  strung  his  silver-sounding  shell. 

And,  mixing  with  thy  menial  train, 
Deigned  to  be  called  the  shepherd  of  the  plain : 

And  as  he  drove  his  flocks  along. 

Whether  the  winding  vale  they  rove. 

Or  linger  in  the  upland  grove. 
He  tuned  the  pastoral  pipe,  or  rural  song. 

Antistrophe 

Delighted  with  his  tuneful  lay,  601 

No  more  the  savage  thirsts  for  blood ; 
Amidst  the  flocks,  in  harmless  play. 

Wantons  the  lynx's  spotted  brood  ; 
Pleas'd  from  his  lair  on  Othrys'  rugged  brow 

The  lion  seeks  the  vale  below  : 

Whilst  to  the  lyre's  melodious  sound 
The  dappled  hinds  in  sportive  measures  bound  ; 

And  as  the  vocal  eclio  rings. 

Lightly  their  nimble  feet  they  ply. 

Leaving  their  pine-clad  forests  high, 
Charm'd  by  the  sweet  notes  of  his  gladdening  strings. 
Strophe  11 

Hence  is  thy  house,  Admetus,  graced 

With  all  that  plenty's  hand  bestows  ; 
Near  the  sweet-streaming  current  placed. 

That  from  the  lake  of  Boebia  flows ; 
Far  towards  the  shades  of  night  thy  wide  domain. 

Rich-pastured  mead  and  cultured  plain. 

Extends,  to  those  Molossian  meads 
Where  the  sun  stations  his  unharnessed  steeds ; 

And  stretching  towards  his  eastern  ray, 

Where  Pelion,  rising  in  his  pride. 

Frowns  o'er  th'  i^gean's  portless  tide  : 
Reaches  from  sea  to  sea  thy  ample  sway. 

Atitistrophe 

And  thou  wilt  ope  thy  gate  e'en  now,  625 

E'en  now  wilt  thou  receive  this  guest ; 


62 


Though  from  thine  eye  the  warm  tear  flow, 
Though  sorrow  rend  thy  suffering  breast, 

Sad  tribute  to  thy  wife,  who,  new  in  death, 
Lamented  lies  thy  roof  beneath  ! 
Nature  in  truth  has  thus  decreed  : 

The  pure  soul  must  bear  fruit  of  reverent  deed. 
Lo,  all  the  pow'r  of  wisdom  lies 
Fix'd  in  the  righteous  bosom  :  hence 
Rests  in  my  soul  this  confidence — 

The  good  shall  yet  safe  from  their  trials  rise. 

EPISODE  III 


636 


The  Central  Gates  open  and  the  Funeral  Procession  slowly  files  out  and 
begins  to  fill  the  Stage.  Admetus  beside  the  bier  of  Alcestis  is  calling 
on  the  Chorus  (as  representing  the  citizens  of  Pherse)  to  join  in  the 
invocations  to  the  dead — when  suddenly  another  Procession  appears 
on  the  Stage  [entering  by  the  Right  Side-door y  as  from  the  immediate 
neighborhood^  :  it  is  headed  by  the  father  and  mother  of  Admetus  ^  both 
of  whom  have  reached  the  furthest  verge  of  old  age,  and  who  with 
difficulty  totter  along ,  while  attendants  follow  them  bearing  sumptuous 
drapery    and    other  funeral  gifts.     The  scene  settles    down    into  the 

*  Forensic  Contest^  a  fixed  feature  of  every  Greek  Tragedy ,  in  which  the 

*  case '  of  the  hero  and  the  opposition  to  it  are  brought  out  with  all  the 
formality  of  a  judicial  process,  the  long  rheses  representing  advocates^ 
speeches,  the  stichomuthic  dialogue  suggesting  cross- examination ^  and 
the  Chorus  interposing  as  moderators. 

Pheres  in  the  tone  of  conventional  consolation  speaks  of  the  virtues  of 
the  dead,  and  the  special  virtue  of  Alcestis's  sacrifice,  which  has  saved  her 
husband's  life,  and  himself  from  a  childless  old  age  ;  it  is  meet  then  that  he 
should  do  honor  to  the  corpse.  Attendants  of  Admetus  advance  to  receive 
the  presents  :  Admetus  waves  them  back  and  stands  coldly  confronting  his 
father.  At  last  he  speaks.  His  father  is  an  uninvited  guest  at  this  funeral 
feast,  and  unwelcome  :  the  dead  shall  never  be  arrayed  in  his  gifts,  Then 
was  the  time  for  his  father  to  show  kindness  when  a  life  was  demanded : 
and  yet  he  could  stand  aloof  and  let  a  younger  die  !  He  will  never  believe 
himself  the  son  of  so  a  mean  and  abject  a  soul. 

At  such  an  age,  just  trembling  on  the  verge  677 

Of  life,  thou  would'st  not,  nay,  thou  dared'st  not  die 
For  thine  own  son ;  but  thou  couldst  suffer  her. 
Though  sprung  from  foreign  blood  :  with  justice  then 
Her  only  as  my  father  must  I  deem. 
Her  only  as  my  mother.     Yet  this  course 
Mightst  thou  have  run  with  glory,  for  thy  son 
Daring  to  die  ;  brief  was  the  space  of  life 
That  could  remain  to  thee  :  I  then  had  lived 
My  destin'd  time,  she  too  had  lived. 

Yet  Pheres  had  already  had  his  share  of  all  that  makes  life  happy :  a  youth 
amid  royal  luxury,  a  prosperous  reign,  a  son  to  inherit  his  state  and  who 
ever  did  him  honor.  But  let  him  beget  him  new  sons  to  cherish  his  age 
and  attend  him  in  death  :  Admetus's  hand  shall  never  do  such  offices  for 
him.  And  this  is  all  that  comes  of  old  age's  longing  for  death :  let  death 
show  itself,  and  the  old  complaints  of  life  are  all  silenced  I 


63 


Cho.   Forbear !     Enough  the  present  weight  of  woe  : 
My  son,  exasperate  not  a  father's  mind. 


710 


To  this  long  rhesis  Pheres  answers  in  a  set  speech  of  similar  length.  Is  he 
a  slave  to  be  so  rated  by  his  own  son  ?  And  for  what  ?  He  has  given  his 
son  birth  and  nurture,  he  has  already  handed  over  to  him  a  kingdom  and 
will  bequeath  him  yet  more  wide  lands  :  all  that  fathers  owe  to  sons  he 
gives.  What  new  obligation  is  this  for  Greece  to  submit  to,  that  a  father 
should  die  for  his  son  ? 

Is  it  a  joy  to  thee  730 

To  view  the  light  of  heaven,  and  dost  thou  think 
Thy  father  joys  not  in  it  ?     Long  I  deem 
Our  time  in  death's  dark  regions  :  short  the  space 
Of  life,  yet  sweet !     So  thought  thy  coward  heart 
And  struggled  not  to  die  :  and  thou  dost  live, 
Passing  the  bounds  of  life  assign'd  by  fate. 
By  killing  her!     My  mean  and  abject  spirit 
Dost  thou  rebuke,  O  timidest  of  all, 
Vanquish'd  e'en  by  a  woman,  her  who  gave 
For  thee,  her  young  fair  husband,  her  own  life  !  740 

A  fine  device  that  thou  mightst  never  die, 
Couldst  thou  persuade  —  who  at  the  time  might  be 
Thy  wife  —  to  die  for  thee  ! 

If  such  a  man  takes  to  heaping  reproaches  on  his  own  kin  he  shall  at  least 
hear  the  truth  told  him  to  his  face  ! 


Cho.  Too  much  of  ill  already  hath  been  spoken : 
Forbear,  old  man,  nor  thus  revile  thy  son. 


750 


Admetus  says  if 
done  the  wrong 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 

Adm. 

Pher. 


Adm, 


his  father  does  not  like  to  hear  the  truth  he  should  not  have 

I 

Had  I  died  for  thee,  greater  were  the  wrong. 

Is  death  alike  then  to  the  young  and  old  ? 

Man's  due  is  one  life,  not  to  borrow  more. 

Thine  drag  thou  on  and  out-tire  heaven's  age ! 

Darest  thou  to  curse  thy  parents,  nothing  wrong'd  ? 

Parents  in  dotage  lusting  still  to  live  !  760 

And  thou  —  what  else  but  life  with  this  corpse  buyest  ? 

This  corpse  —  the  symbol  of  thy  infamy ! 

For  us  she  died  not :  that  thou  canst  not  say  ! 

Ah  !  mayst  thou  some  time  come  to  need  my  aid  1 

Wed  many  wives  that  more  may  die  for  thee  ! 

On  thee  rests  this  reproach  —  thou  daredst  not  die  ! 

Sweet  is  this  light  of  heav'n  !  sweet  is  this  light ! 

Base  is  thy  thought,  unworthy  of  a  man  ! 

The  triumph  is  not  thine  to  entomb  my  age. 

Die  when  thou  wilt,  inglorious  wilt  thou  die.  770 

Thy  ill  report  will  not  affect  me  dead. 

Alas,  that  age  should  outlive  sense  of  shame ! 

But  lack  of  age's  wisdom  slew  her  youth. 

Begone,  and  suffer  me  to  entomb  my  dead. 

I  go :  no  fitter  burier  than  thyself 

Her  murderer  !     Look  for  reckoning  from  her  friends  : 

Acastus  is  no  man,  if  his  hand  fails 

Dearly  to  avenge  on  thee  his  sister's  blood. 

Why,  get  you  gone,  thou  and  thy  worthy  wife  : 


6i 

Grow  old  in  consort  —  that  is  now  yo\a  lot —  780 

The  childless  parents  of  a  living  son  : 

For  never  more  under  one  common  roof 

Come  you  and  I  together  :  had  it  needed, 

By  herald  I  your  hearth  would  have  renounced. 

Pheres  and  his  train  withdraw  along  the  Stage  [to  the  Right  Side- 
door].  The  interrupted  Funeral  Procession  is  c&ntimted^  filings  amidst 
lamentations  of  the  Chorus^  down  the  steps  from  the  Stage  into  the  Orches- 
tra: there  the  Chorus  join  it  and  the  whole  passes  out  [^  the  Right 
Archway]  to  the  royal  sepulchre  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Stage  and  Orchestra  both  vacant  for  a  while, 

STAGE  EPISODE* 

Enter  the  Stage  [by  one  of  the  Inferior  Doors  of  the  Palace]  the  Steward 
of  Admetus:  he  has  stolen  away  to  get  a  moment's  respite  from  the  hateful 
hilarity  of  this  strange  visitor — some  ruffian  or  robber  he  supposes — on 
whom  his  office  has  condemned  him  to  wait,  and  thereby  to  miss  paying  the 
last  offices  to  a  mistress  who  has  been  more  like  a  mother  to  him.  The 
guest  has  been  willing  to  enter,  and  though  he  saw  the  mourning  of  the 
household,  he  did  not  allow  it  to  make  any  difference  to  his  mirth ; 

Grasping  in  his  hands  804 

A  goblet  wreath'd  with  ivy,  fill'd  it  high 
With  the  grape's  purple  juice,  and  quaff'd  it  off 
Untemper'd,  till  the  glowing  wine  inflamed  him ; 
Then  binding  round  his  head  a  myrtle  wreath. 
Howls  dismal  discord  : — two  unpleasing  strains 
"We  heard,  his  harsh  notes  who  in  nought  revered 
Th'  afflictions  of  Admetus,  and  the  voice 
Of  sorrow  through  the  family  that  wept 
Our  mistress.     Yet  our  tearful  eyes  we  showed  not, 
Admetus  so  commanded,  to  the  guest.  814 

He  starts  as  he  feels  on  his  shoulder  the  huge  hand  of  Hercules^  who  has 
followed  him,  and  now  appears  on  the  Stage  goblet  in  hand^  wreathed  and 
attired  likt  a  reveller  in  full  revel,  Hercules  good-humouredly  scolds  him 
for  letting  a  remote  family  bereavement  hinder  him  from  showing  a  sociable 
countenance  to  his  lord's  guest.  He  lectures  him  on  the  easy  ethics  of  the 
banquet -hour: 

Come  hither,  that  thou  mayst  be  wiser,  friend :  832 

Knowst  thou  the  nature  of  all  mortal  things  ? 

Not  thou,  I  ween  :  how  shouldst  thou  ?  hear  from  me. 

By  all  of  human  race  death  is  a  debt 

That  must  be  paid  ;  and  none  of  mortal  men 

Knows  whether  till  to-morrow  life's  short  space 

Shall  be  extended :  such  the  dark  events 

Of  fortune,  never  to  be  leam'd  or  traced 

By  any  skill.     Instructed  thus  by  me  840 

Bid  pleasure  welcome,  drink  ;  the  life  allow'd 

From  day  to  day  esteem  thine  own ;  all  else 

Fortime's. 


6S 


The  Steward  receives  his  lecture  with  a  bad  grace  :  he  knows  all  that — ^but 
there  is  a  time  for  all  things.  His  manner  raises  Hercules'  suspicions  that 
Admetus  has  been  keeping  something  back  : 

Here,  Is  it  some  sorrow  which  he  told  not  me  ?  866 

Stew,  Go  thou  with  joy  :  ours  are  our  lord's  afflictions. 
Here.  These  are  not  words  that  speak  a  foreign  loss. 
Stew,  If  such,  thy  revelry  had  not  displeased  me. 

The  secret  is  not  long  kept  against  the  questioning  of  Hercules.  When  the 
truth  comes  out  Hercules  drops  the  goblet :  he  might  have  known  all  from 
so  grief-worn  a  face  !  All  the  lightness  of  the  reveller  disappears,  and  the 
godlike  bearing  returns  to  Hercules'  figure  as  he  catches  the  full  dignity  of 
his  friend's  hospitable  feat :  he  is  fired  to  essay  a  rival  deed  of  nobility. 


Now,  my  firm  heart,  and  thou,  my  daring  soul, 
Show  what  a  son  the  daughter  of  Electryon, 
Alcmena  of  Tirynthia,  bore  to  Jove  ! 
This  lady,  new  in  death,  behoves  me  save, 
And,  to  Admetus  rendering  grateful  service. 
Restore  his  lost  Alcestis  to  his  house. 
This  sable- vested  tyrant  of  the  dead 
Mine  cN-c  iit^  vk'AUh»  ftoc  witLoat  hope  to  find 
Drinking  th*  oblatiow  niftb  tbt  lomb.    II  once 
Seen  from  my  secret  st^iul  1  ntsii  upon  hiai* 
The$>«  arms  sihill  grjisp  hia  till  \a%  panting  >kl(« 
Labc'jr  for  brc alh ;  vtiA  who  shall  lorae  hoi  froA 
Till  he  ^V9tx  t)*ck  this  wyDmnn  \ 


894 


906 


«»«  %  Meat  eioW  on  wpoa  cW 
-«  '*mj  nM  <tfe(i  in  Greek  D 


vitkeoi  the 


ol  tbe  Cbora  la  tfac 


If  he  fails  to  find  Dcith  cl»ewhe7Te  he  will  doixmi  ti>  the  i!*fk  wodd  of 
spirits  itself,  rather  thnn  f.ntl  in  making  4  fit  retifii  to  his  friend  s 

Whose  iMMfxiUblc  heut  9^^ 

Recch-^d  me  in  hti  wHiie,  nor  mitAt  excuse 
Thoxij;li  picrc'd  with  SAich  ft  fp^i ;  this  he  concealed 
Thresh  frencTous  thoBjcht,  aad  re vcrvnce  to  his  friead* 
Who  iti  'nw»Milin  hcxTii  a  warmer  Utvc 
To  strangers  ?    Who.  through  all  the  renlms  ol  Greece  ? 
It  never  shall  bt  »id  ihiat  noble  man 
Recci^xd  tu  aae  a  base  aad  worthless  wretch ! 

Exit  [through  the  Sta^f  Ri^kt  Sidlf-l>fpr]  m  tJkr  diretiim  ^theSm^» 
Stage  und  Or^Amra  tt^Mtt  fir  awAHe, 

EPISODE  V 

Return  of  the  fkimmt  Pre>eeisiM,  headed^  the  Chc>rw  vr^  rh 
main  in  the  Orehettra  :  (M4  rext  fiU  uf  the  steps  <fn  tt  tke  Uigi, 
Admetus  last.  The  Episode  ii  tetAiticaffy  a  *Dirg^  i^trc^em 
Admetus^  wh^.e  ipeeihes  fffl  ifUfi  ike  rkythvc  of  a  Punrnxl 
March,  and  the  Ch4rm^  ^sAp  speak  tm  Sfit^phej  atfd  AMttstr^^pSes 
of  more  elaborate  fyril  rlkythmt  <JteH  mtrrruf^d  iy  the  veasis  af 
Admetus. 

Admetus  reaching  the  lop  6f  tke  Steptfr^^  the  Ortketira  stands  fate  i»  face 
with  the  splendid  fa^^e  ^f  his  Palace,  Hateful  eMraftce,  hateful  os^ct  of  a 
widowed  home  I  How  find  rest  there,  in  tbe  heavy  woca  to  whKh  be  it 
now  doomed  ?  It  is  with  the  dead  iKaF  rr>x  is  founel :  his  heart  Is  In  tNeIr 
dark  housesy  whcfe  he  ha*  placed  a  loved  hostage  torn  from  hiai  by  late  ■ 

93« 


66 

in  ^ir^'  ^'^  Strophel  Nevertheless  he  must  go  forward  ;  he  must  hide  him 
m  die  deepest  recesses  of  his  Palace  with  his  grief,  the  helpless  ^roa^ 
that  yet  will  nothing  aid  her  whom  he  will  never  see  more  !  ^  ^938 
Admetus  cries  that  that  is  the  deepest  wound  of  all !  Would  he  had 
fn  J''  "".f^^^ '     ^°  °^°T  ^^"^^^  ''  P^i"  ^"durable  :  to  see  chXn  wast 

bo^nr?'  ^^Jr^'^l^t^'h^'"''  is  resistless  :  shall  sorrow  then  have'no 
Dounas  r    utner  men  have  known  what  it  is  to  \n<f>  9  «,if«  .  or,^  ;^ 

other  of  im.u„.erable  for»s  misery  has  fou^d^lreve^'Ion'o/Toram;: 
Admetus  begins  to  speak  of  the  life-long  mournine  for  the  Io.;f    h,„  thf 

&t;\rseTto^^^^^^  him"brcJ':h:fhi^^^^^^^ 

have  cast  himself  into  the  gaping  tomb,  and  gone  the  last  journey  with  his 

TAe  Chorus  [in  Strophe]  think  of  one  they  knew  who  lost  a  son  in?he 
flower  of  his  age.  an  only  son  and  well  worthy  of  tears  yet  he  bore  his 
!ngte  r^d"   '"^^  "  "'"•  and-courage  !  his  hJir  is  white  J^d  he  is  nea" 

ihf'^TnJ^'nl  Tf  ""J"^  '''^'  ^""^^^1  '^"^  '^'  Procession  advances  towards 
the  portal',  bu  the  contrast  catches  his  thought  between  this  and' 
another  procession  towards  the  same  threshhold,^  when.  Tmidst  blazlne 
torches  of  Pelian  pme  and  bridal  dances,  he  led  h  s  new  wif^bv  the  h«nf 
and  shouts  wished  their  union  happy.  '  Now  wails  "'7  Thouts^  bkc^^^^^^ 
glistening  raiment,  and  before  him  the  solitary  chamber  !  983 

Chorus  [in  Antistrophe\  Trouble  has  come  upon  their  master  all  at  once, 
n  the  midst  of  prosperity,  and  on  one  unschooled  in  misfortune.     But  if 
the  wife  is  gone  the  love  is  left.     Many  have  had  Admetus's  loss  :  but  his 
gain  let  him  remember :  a  rescued  life.  'gg 

As  if  this  jarred  upon  his  mind,  Admetus  turns  round  and  addresses  the 
Chorus,  his  whole  tone  changed  [the  dirge  measures  giving  i>lace  to  blank 
verse]. 

My  friends,  I  deem  the  fortune  of  my  wife 

Happier  than  mine,  though  otherwise  it  seems.  990 

For  nevermore  shall  sorrow  touch  her  breast. 

And  she  with  glory  rests  from  various  ills. 

But  I,  who  ought  not  live,  my  destined  hour 

O'erpassing,  shall  drag  on  a  mournful  life. 

Late  taught  what  sorrow  is.     How  shall  I  bear 

To  enter  here  ?     To  whom  shall  I  address 

My  speech  ?    Whose  greeting  renders  my  return 

Delightful  ?     Which  way  shall  I  turn  ?     Within 

In  lonely  sorrow  shall  I  waste  away. 

As,  widowed  of  my  wife,  I  see  my  couch,  1000 

The  seats  deserted  where  she  sat,  the  rooms 

Wanting  her  elegance.     Around  my  knees 

My  children  hang,  and  weep  their  mother  lost : 

The  household  servants  for  their  mistress  sigh. 

This  is  the  scene  of  misery  in  my  home  : 

Abroad  the  nuptials  of  Thessalia's  youth 

And  the  bright  circles  of  assembled  dames 

Will  but  augment  my  grief :  how  shall  I  bear 

To  see  the  lov'd  companions  of  my  wife  ! 

And  if  one  hates  me,  he  will  say  :  Behold  loio 

The  man  who  basely  lives,  who  dared  not  die. 


Adm. 


/ 


67 


But  giving,  through  the  meanness  of  his  soul, 
His  wife,  avoided  death— yet  would  be  deem'd 
A  man  :  he  hates  his  parents,  yet  himself 
Had  not  the  spirit  to  die.     These  ill  reports 
Cleave  to  me  :  why  then  wish  for  longer  life, 
On  evil  tongues  thus  fallen,  and  evil  days  ! 
Admetus  sinks  down  on  the  threshhold  and  buries  his  face  in  his  robe.     The 
Chorus  gather  up  the  feeling  of  the  situation  in  a  full  Choral  Ode,  celebrat- 
ing the  natural  topics  of  consolation ;  the  stem  laws  of  Necessity,  the  fair 
memory  of  the  dead. 


CHORAL  INTERLUDE  IV 
Strophe  I 
My  venturous  foot  delights 
To  tread  the  Muses'  arduous  heights ; 
Their  hallow'd  haunts  I  love  t'  explore. 

And  listen  to  their  lore  : 
Yet  never  could  my  searching  mind 
Aught,  like  Necessity,  resistless  find. 
No  herb  of  sovereign  pow'r  to  save. 
Whose  virtues  Orpheus  joy'd  to  trace, 
And  wrote  them  in  the  rolls  of  Thrace  ; 

Nor  all  that  Phoebus  gave. 
Instructing  the  Asclepian  train. 
When  various  ills  the  human  frame  assail. 
To  heal  the  wound,  to  soothe  the  pain, 
'Gainst  Her  stern  force  avail. 

Antistrophe 

Of  all  the  Pow'rs  Divine 
Alone  none  dares  t'  approach  Her  shrine ; 
To  Her  no  hallow'd  image  stands, 

No  altar  She  commands. 
In  vain  the  victim's  blood  would  flow, 
She  never  deigns  to  hear  the  suppliant's  vow. 
Never  to  me  mayst  Thou  appear. 
Dread  Goddess,  with  severer  mien 
Than  oft  in  life's  past  tranquil  scene 

Thou  hast  been  known  to  wear. 
By  Thee  Jove  works  his  stern  behest ; 
Thy  force  subdues  e'en  Scythia's  stubborn  steel ; 
Nor  ever  does  Thy  rugged  breast 

The  touch  of  pity  feel. 

Strophe  11 

And  now,  with  ruin  pleas 'd. 
On  thee,  O  King,  her  hands  have  seiz'd. 
And  bound  thee  in  her  iron  chain  : 

Yet  her  fell  force  sustain. 
For  from  the  gloomy  realms  of  night 
No  tears  recall  the  dead  to  life's  sweet  light. 
No  virtue,  though  to  heav'n  allied, 
Saves  from  the  inevitable  doom  : 
Heroes  and  sons  of  gods  have  died. 

And  sunk  into  the  tomb. 
Dear,  whilst  our  eyes  her  presence  blest, 


1018 


1032 


1046 


/ 


68 


Dear,  in  the  gloomy  mansions  of  the  dead : 
Most  generous  she,  the  noblest,  best. 
Who  graced  thy  nuptial  bed. 

Antistrophe 

Thy  wife's  sepulchral  mound  1060 

Deem  not  as  common,  worthless  ground 
That  swells  their  breathless  bodies  o'er 

Who  die,  and  are  no  more. 
No,  be  it  honor'd  as  a  shrine  ; 
Raised  high,  and  hallow'd  to  some  Pow'r  Divine : 
The  traveller,  as  he  passes  by, 
Shall  thither  bend  his  devious  way, 
With  reverence  gaze,  and  with  a  sigh. 

Smite  on  his  breast,  and  say  : 
"She  died  of  old  to  save  her  lord  ; 
Now  blest  among  the  blest ;  Hail,  Pow'r  revered, 
To  us  thy  wonted  grace  afford  ! " 

Such  vows  shall  be  preferred. 

EXODUS  OR  FINALE 
Re-enter  Hercules^  leading  a  veiled  woman 
Here.   I  would  speak  freely  to  my  friend,  Admetus, 
Nor  what  I  blame  keep  secret  in  my  breast. 
I  came  to  thee  amidst  thy  ills,  and  thought 
I  had  been  worthy  to  be  proved  thy  friend. 
Thou  told'st  me  not  the  obsequies  prepared  1080 

Were  for  thy  wife ;  but  in  thy  house  receiv'dst  me 
As  if  thou  griev'dst  for  one  of  foreign  birth. 
I  bound  my  head  with  garlands,  to  the  gods 
Pouring  libations  in  thy  house  with  grief 
Oppress'd.     I  blame  this  :  yes,  in  such  a  state 
I  blame  this  :  yet  I  come  not  in  thine  ills 
To  give  thee  pain  ;  why  I  return  in  brief 
Will  I  unfold.     This  woman  from  my  hands 
Receive  to  thy  protection,  till  return'd 

I  bring  the  Thracian  steeds,  having  there  slain  1090 

The  proud  Bistonian  tyrant ;  should  I  fail — 
Be  that  mischance  not  mine,  for  much  I  wish 
Safe  to  revisit  thee — yet  should  I  fail, 
I  give  her  to  the  safeguard  of  thy  house. 
For  with  much  toil  she  came  unto  my  hands. 
To  such  as  dare  contend  some  public  games. 
Which  well  deserv'd  my  toil,  I  find  propos'd ; 
I  bring  her  thence,  she  is  the  prize  of  conquest : 
For  slight  assays  each  victor  led  away 

A  courser ;  but  for  those  of  harder  proof  noo 

The  conqueror  was  rewarded  from  the  herd, 
And  with  some  female  graced ;  victorious  there, 
A  prize  so  noble  it  were  base  to  slight. 
Take  her  to  thy  protection,  not  by  stealth 
Obtain'd,  but  the  reward  of  many  toils: 
The  time,  perchance,  may  come  when  thou  will  thank  me. 

Adm,   Not  that  I  slight  thy  friendship,  or  esteem  thee 
Other  than  noble,  wished  I  to  conceal 


Chor. 
Here, 

Adm. 

Here, 
Adm. 
Here, 
Adm. 
Here. 
Adm. 
Here. 
Adm. 
Here. 
Adm. 
Here, 
Adm. 
Here, 
Adm, 
Here. 


69 

My  wife's  unhappy  fate  ;  but  to  my  grief 

It  had  been  added  grief,  if  thou  had'st  sought  mo 

Elsewhere  the  rites  of  hospitality ; 

Suffice  it  that  I  mourn  ills  which  are  mine. 

This  woman,  if  it  may  be,  give  in  charge, 

I  beg  thee,  king,  to  some  Thessalian  else, 

That  hath  not  cause  like  me  to  grieve  ;  in  Pherse 

Thou  may'st  find  many  friends  ;  call  not  my  woes 

Fresh  to  my  memory ;  never  in  my  house 

Could  I  behold  her,  but  my  tears  would  flow : 

To  sorrow  add  not  sorrow ;  now  enough 

I  sink  beneath  its  weight.     Where  should  her  youth  1120 

With  me  be  guarded  ?  for  her  gorgeous  vests 

Proclaim  her  young;  if  mixing  with  the  men 

She  dwell  beneath  my  roof,  how  shall  her  fame, 

Conversing  with  the  youths,  be  kept  unsullied  ? 

It  is  not  easy  to  restrain  the  warmth 

Of  that  intemperate  age  ;  my  care  for  thee 

Warns  me  of  this.     Or  if  from  them  remov'd 

I  hide  her  in  th'  apartments  late  my  wife's. 

How  to  my  bed  admit  her  ?     I  should  fear 

A  double  blame :  my  citizens  would  scorn  me  1130 

As  light  and  faithless  to  the  kindest  wife 

That  died  for  me,  if  to  her  bed  I  took 

Another  blooming  bride ;  and  to  the  dead 

Behoves  me  pay  the  highest  reverence 

Due  to  her  merit.     And  thou,  lady,  know, 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  that  form,  that  shape,  that  air 

Resembles  my  Alcestis !     By  the  Gods, 

Remove  her  from  my  sight !  it  is  too  much, 

I  cannot  bear  it ;  when  I  look  on  her, 

Methinks  I  see  my  wife ;  this  wounds  my  heart  1140 

And  calls  the  tears  fresh  gushing  from  my  eyes. 

This  is  the  bitterness  of  grief  indeed  I 

I  cannot  praise  thy  fortune  ;  but  behoves  thee 

To  bear  with  firmness  what  the  gods  assign. 

0  that  from  Jove  I  had  the  pow'r  to  bring 
Back  from  the  mansions  of  the  dead  thy  wife 

To  heav'n's  fair  light,  that  grace  achieving  for  thee  ! 

1  know  thy  friendly  will;  but  how  can  this 
Be  done  ?    The  dead  return  not  to  this  light. 

Check  then  thy  swelling  griefs ;   with  reason  rule  them.         11 50 

How  easy  to  advise,  but  hard  to  bear  1 

What  should  it  profit  should'st  thou  always  groan  ? 

I  know  it;  but  I  am  in  love  with  grief. 

Love  to  the  dead  calls  forth  the  ceaseless  tear. 

O,  I  am  wretched  more  than  words  can  speak. 

A  good  wife  hast  thou  lost,  who  can  gainsay  it  ? 

Never  can  life  be  pleasant  to  me  more. 

Thy  sorrow  now  is  new  ;  time  will  abate  it 

Time  say'st  thou  ?    Yes,  the  time  that  brings  me  death. 

Some  young  and  lovely  bride  will  bid  it  cease.  1160 

No  more  :     What  say'st  thou  ?    Never  could  I  think  — 

Will  thou  still  lead  a  lonely  widow'd  life  ? 

Never  shall  other  women  share  my  bed. 

And  think'st  thou  this  will  aught  avail  the  dead  ? 


70 


71 


Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here. 

Adm. 

Here, 


Adm. 


Here^ 
Adm. 
Here. 
Adm. 
Here. 
Adm. 
Here. 
Adm. 


Here. 

Adm. 


Here. 
Adm. 
Here. 

Adm. 


This  honor  is  her  due,  where'er  she  be. 
This  hath  my  praise,  though  near  allied  to  frenzy. 
Praise  me  or  not,  I  ne'er  will  wed  again. 
I  praise  thee  that  thou'rt  faithful  to  thy  wife. 
Though  dead,  if  I  betray  her,  may  I  die  ! 
Well,  take  this  noble  lady  to  thy  house. 
No,  by  thy  father  Jove,  let  me  entreat  thee. 
Not  to  do  this  would  be  the  greatest  wrong. 
To  do  it  would  with  anguish  rend  my  heart. 
Let  me  prevail ;  this  grace  may  find  its  meed. 

0  that  thou  never  had'st  receiv'd  this  prize  I 
Yet  in  my  victory  thou  art  victor  with  me. 
'Tis  nobly  said  :  yet  let  this  woman  go. 
If  she  must  go,  she  shall !  but  must  she  go  ? 
She  must,  if  I  incur  not  thy  displeasure. 
There  is  a  cause  that  prompts  my  earnestness. 
Thou  hast  prevail'd,  but  much  against  my  will. 
The  time  will  come  when  thou  wilt  thank  me  for  it. 
Well,  if  I  must  receive  her,  lead  her  in. 
Charge  servants  with  her !     No,  that  must  not  be. 
Lead  her  thyself,  then,  if  thy  will  incline  thee. 
No,  to  thy  hand  alone  will  I  commit  her. 

1  touch  her  not ;  but  she  hath  leave  to  enter. 
I  shall  entrust  her  only  to  thy  hand. 
Thou  dost  constrain  me,  king,  against  my  will. 
Venture  to  stretch  thy  hand,  and  touch  the  stranger's. 
I  touch  her,  as  I  would  the  headless  Gorgon. 
Hast  thou  her  hand  ? 

I  have. 

{lifting  the  veil )  Then  hold  her  safe. 
Hereafter  thou  wilt  say  the  son  of  Jove 
Hath  been  a  generous  guest ;  view  now  her  face, 
See  if  she  bears  resemblance  to  thy  wife, 
And  thus  made  happy  bid  farewell  to  grief. 
O,  Gods,  what  shall  1  say  ?     'Tis  marvelous. 
Exceeding  hope.     See  I  my  wife  indeed  ? 
Or  doth  some  God  distract  me  with  false  joy  ? 
In  very  deed  dost  thou  behold  thy  wife. 
See  that  it  be  no  phantom  from  beneath. 
Make  not  thy  friend  one  that  evokes  the  shades. 
And  do  I  see  my  wife,  whom  I  entomb'd  ? 
I  marvel  not  that  thou  art  diffident. 
I  touch  her ;  may  I  speak  to  her  as  living  ? 
Speak  to  her :  thou  hast  all  thy  heart  could  wish. 
Dearest  of  women,  do  I  see  again 
That  face,  that  person  ?     This  exceeds  all  hope ; 
I  never  thought  that  I  should  see  thee  more. 
Thou  hast  her;   may  no  God  be  envious  of  thee. 

0  be  thou  blest,  thou  generous  son  of  Jove  I 
Thy  father's  might  protect  thee !     Thou  alone 
Hast  rais'd  her  to  me ;  from  the  realms  below 
How  hast  thou  brought  her  to  the  light  of  life  ? 

1  fought  with  him  that  lords  it  o'er  the  shades. 
Where  with  the  gloomy  tyrant  didst  thou  fight  ? 
I  lay  in  wait  and  seized  him  at  the  tomb. 

But  wherefore  doth  my  wife  thus  speechless  stand  ? 


1 170 


1 180 


1 190 


Here,  It  is  not  yet  permitted*  that  thou  hear 

Her  voice  addressing  thee,  till  from  the  Gods 
That  rule  beneath  she  be  unsanctified 
With  hallow'd  rites,  and  the  third  mom  return. 
But  lead  her  in ;  and  as  thou'rt  just  in  all 
Besides,  Admetus,  see  thou  reverence  strangers. 
Farewell :  I  go  t'  achieve  the  destined  toil 
For  the  imperial  son  of  Sthenelus. 

Adm.   Abide  with  us,  and  share  my  friendly  hearth. 

Here.  That  time  will  come  again ;  this  demands  speed. 

Adm.  Success  attend  thee :  safe  may'st  thou  return. 
Now  to  my  citizens  I  give  in  charge. 
And  to  each  chief,  that  for  this  blest  event 
They  institute  the  dance ;  let  the  steer  bleed, 
And  the  rich  altars,  as  they  pay  their  vows, 
Breathe  incense  to  the  gods ;  for  now  I  rise 
To  better  life,  and  grateful  own  the  blessing. 

The  Chorus,  Retiring  : 

Our  fates  the  Gods  in  various  shapes  dispose : 
Heaven  sets  the  crown  on  many  a  hopeless  cause : 

That  which  is  looked  for 

Fails  in  the  issue. 

To  goals  unexpected 

Heav'n  points  out  a  passage : 
And  this  is  the  end  of  the  matter. 


1220 


1230 


1236 


1200 


1210 


*  The  fact  was  that  the  Alcestis  was  represented  in  place  of  a  *  Satyric  Drama,'  which 
only  allowed  two  (speaking)  personages  on  the  Stage  at  the  same  time. 


72 


73 


\ 


THE   CYCLOPS  OF   EURIPIDES 

A  SPECIMEN  OF  THE   SATYRIC  DRAMA 


Scene:  Sicily,  in  front  of  cave  of  the  Cyclops,  Polyphemus. 

Prologue  by  Silenus,  the  rural  demi-god,  who  recounts  his  faithful  service 
to  Bacchus,  and  yet  the  ungrateful  god  has  let  himself  and  his  children  fall 
mto  this  slavery  to  the  horrid  Cyclops  Polyphemus,  where,  worst  of  their 
many  woes,  they  are  debarred  from  the  wine  they  worship. 

P.^r^d'-?,-  The  Chorus  of  Satyrs  driving  their  goats  and  lamenting  how 
difterent  this  from  the  merry  service  of  Bacchus. 

Episode  I.  Silenus  hurries  back  with  the  news  that  a  ship  is  approaching 
to  water  m  the  island  :  fresh  victims  for  the  monster.  Enter  Ulysses  and 
fr^.-  mutual  explanations,  all  couched  in  *  burlesque  '  tone.  The  mariners 
have  had  no  food  except  flesh,  and  gladly  partake  milk  and  fruits  of  the 
batyrs,  affording  in  return  to  Silenus  the  long-lost  luxury  of  wine  :  the  scene 
then  going  on  to  paint  [with  the  utmost  coarseness]  the  oncoming  of 
drunkenness.  ° 

Suddenly  enter  Polyphemus:  Ulysses  and  the  crew  hide.  After  some 
rough  bandying  between  the  Monster  and  the  Chorus,  the  strangers  are  dis- 
covered :  and  Silenus,  to  save  himself,  turns  traitor,  and  tells  Polyphemus 
how  they  have  beaten  him  because  he  would  not  let  them  steal,  also  what 
dire  woes  they  were  going  to  work  upon  Polyphemus.  In  spite  of  their  pro- 
tests Silenus  IS  believed  :  Ulysses  promises,  if  set  free,  to  erect  shrines  in 
Oreece  for  the  Cyclops,  besides  dwelling  upon  the  impiety  of  attacking 
mnocent  strangers  :  Polyphemus  replies  that  he  does  not  care  for  shrinef, 
and  as  for  impiety  he  is  independent  of  Zeus  ;  which  gives  occasion  for  a 
glonfication  of  the  life  of  nature.  They  are  driven  into  the  cave  to  be  fed 
on  at  leisure. 

Choral  Ode:  General  disgust  at  the  monster. 

Episode  II.  Ulysses  [apparently  standing  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavel 
descnbes  Polyphemus  gorging— then  details  his  plan  of  deliverance  by  aid 
of  the  wine.  "^ 

Choral  Ode.     Lyric  delight  of  Chorus  at  prospect  of  deliverance. 

Episode  III.  The  Cyclops  appears  sated  with  his  banquet,  and  settling 
down  to  this  new  treat  of  drinking— the  effects  of  on-coming  intoxication 
are  painted  again  in  Polyphemus,  with  the  usual  coarseness— a  farcical  climax 
being  reached  when  the  monster  begins  to  be  affectionate  to  his  cup-bearer, 
old  Silenus,  in  memory  of  Zeus  and  his  famous  cup-bearer,  Ganymede. 

Choral  Ode.     Anticipation  of  Revenge. 

Exodus.  The  plan  of  Revenge,  the  boring  out  of  the  Cyclops's  one  eye 
while  overpowered  with  drink,  is  carried  out— various  farcical  effects  by  the 
way,  e.g.,  the  Chorus  drawing  back  with  excuses  and  leaving  Ulysses  to  do 
the  deed  at  the  critical  moment.  The  Drama  ends  with  the  Monster's  rage 
and  vain  attempts  to  catch  the  culprit,  Ulysses  putting  him  off  with  his 
feigned  name  *  No  man ':  thus  all  are  delivered. 


THE  BACCHANALS  OF  EURIPIDES* 

PROLOGUE 

The  permanent  scene  covered  by  movable  scenery  representing  a  wide 
landscape — the  valley  of  the  Dirce.  A  pile  of  buildings  occupies  the  middle, 
to  which  the  central  entrance  is  an  approach:  these  are  the  Cadmeia  and 
royal  palaces.  That  on  the  left  is  the  palace  of  Pentheus^  and  further  to 
the  left  is  the  mystic  scene  of  Bacchus' s  birth — a  heap  of  ruins,  still  mir- 
aculously smouldering,  and  covered  by  trailing  vines.  On  the  right  is 
the  palace  of  Cadmus,  and  the  scene  extends  to  take  in  the  Electran  gate 
of  Thebes,  and  {on  the  right  turn-scene)  the  slopes  of  Cithceron, 

Dionysus  enters,  in  mortal  guise,  through  the  distance  archway,  and  (in 
formal  prologue)  opens  the  situation.  He  brings  out  the  points  of  the  land- 
scape before  him,  dear  as  the  site  of  his  miraculous  birth  and  the  sad  end 
of  his  mortal  mother.  Then  he  details  the  Asiatic  realms  through  which  he 
has  made  triumphant  progress,  Lydia,  Phrygia,  sun-seared  Persia,  Bactria ; 
the  wild,  wintry  Median  land ;  Araby  the  Blest,  and  the  cities  by  the  sea  ; 
everywhere  his  orgies  accepted  and  his  godhead  received.  Now  for  the 
first  time  he  has  reached  an  Hellenic  city :  and  here — where  least  it  should 
have  been — his  divinity  is  questioned  by  his  own  mother's  sisters  who  make 
the  story  of  his  birth  a  false  rumor,  devised  to  cover  Semele's  shame,  and 
avenged  by  the  lightning  flash  which  destroyed  her.  To  punish  his  un- 
natural kin  he  has  infected  all  their  womenkind  with  his  sacred  phrensy, 
and  maddened  out  of  their  quiet  life,  they  are  now  on  the  revel  under  the 
pale  pines  of  the  mountain,  unseemly  mingled  with  the  sons  of  Thebes  :  so 
shall  the  recusant  city  learn  her  guilt,  and  make  atonement  to  him  and  his 
mother.  Pentheus,  it  seems,  is  the  main  foe  of  his  godhead,  who  reigns  as 
king  over  Thebes,  the  aged  Cadmus  having  yielded  the  sovereignty  in  his 
lifetime  to  his  sister's  son :  he  repels  Bacchus  from  the  sacred  libations,  nor 
names  him  in  prayer.  So  he  and  Thebes  must  learn  a  dread  lesson,  and 
then  away  to  make  revelation  in  other  lands.  As  to  force,  if  attempt  is 
made  to  drive  the  Maenads  from  the  mountains,  Bacchus  himself  will  mingle 
in  the  war,  and  for  this  he  has  assumed  mortal  shape. 

He  calls  upon  his  *  Thyasus  of  women,'  fellow-pilgrims  from  the  lands 
beyond  the  sea,  to  beat  their  Phrygian  drums  in  noisy  ritual  about  the  pal- 
ace of  Pentheus  till  all  Thebes  shall  flock  to  hear :  he  goes  to  join  his  wor- 
shippers on  Cithaeron.  yg 

PARODE  OR  CHORUS-ENTRY 

The  Chorus  enter  the  orchestra,  Asiatic  women  in  wild  attire  of  Bacchic 
rites,  especially  the  motley  {dappled  fawnskin)  always  associated  with 
abandon:  they  move  with  wild  gestures  and  dances  associated  with 
Asiatic  rituals. 

The  wild  ode  resumes  the  joyous  dance  that  has  made  their  whole  way 
from  Asia  one  long  sacred  revel — 

Toilless  toil  and  labour  sweet. 
Blest  above  all  men  he  who  hallows  his  life  in  such  mystic  rites,  and  puri- 
fied with  holiest  waters,  goes  dancing  with  the  worshippers  of  Bacchus,  and 


♦The  quotations  are  from  Milman's  translation  in  Routledge's  Universal  Libraiy. 


74 


of  thee,  mighty  Mother  Cybele,  shaking  his  thyrsus,  and  all  his  locks 
crowned  with  ivy.  Bacchus's  birth  is  sung,  and  how  from  the  flashing 
lightning  Jove  snatched  him  and,  preserved  in  his  thigh,  until  at  the  fated 
hour  he  gave  him  to  light,  homed  and  crowned  with  serpents.  Wherefore 
should  Thebes,  sacred  scene  of  the  miracle,  be  one  blossom  of  revellers, 
clad  in  motley  and  waving  the  thyrsus,  the  whole  land  maddening  with  the 
dance.  The  Chorus  think  of  the  first  origin  of  such  noisy  joys,  when  the 
wild  ones  of  Crete  beat  their  cymbals  round  the  sunless  caverns  where  the 
infant  Jove  was  hidden,  and  these  rites  of  Rhoea  soon  mingled  for  the 
frantic  Satyrs  with  the  third  year's  dances  to  Bacchus.  Then  the  ode  re- 
curs to  the  bliss  of  such  holy  rites,  luxurious  interchange  of  wild  energy  and 
delicious  re|X)se.  They  long  for  the  climax  of  the  dance,  when,  with  luxu- 
riant hair  all  floating,  they  can  rage  and  madden  to  the  clash  of  heavy  cym- 
bals and  the  shout  Evoe,  Evoe,  frisking  like  colts  to  the  soft  breathing  of 
the  holy  pipe,  while  the  mountain  echoes  beneath  their  boundings.  178 

EPISODE  I 

The  blind  prophet  Teiresias  enters  from  Thebes,  and  is  soon  joined  by 
Cadmus  from  the  palace.  Old  as  they  are  they  have  put  on  the  livery  of 
the  god,  and  will  join  in  the  dance,  for  which  supernatural  strength  will  be 
given  :  they  alone  of  the  city  are  wise. 

The  ancestral  faith,  coeval  with  our  race. 

No  subtle  reasoning,  if  it  soar  aloft 

Ev'n  to  the  height  of  wisdom,  can  o'erthrow. 

They  are  stopped  by  the  entrance  of  Pentheus,  as  from  a  far  journey.  His 
opening  words  betray  his  anxiety  as  to  the  scandal  in  his  realm — the  young 
women  of  his  family,  even  his  mother  Agave,  all  gone  to  join  the  impious 
revels. 

In  pretext,  holy  sacrificing  Maenads, 

But  serving  Aphrodite  more  than  Bacchus. 

Some  he  has  imprisoned,  the  rest  he  will  hunt  from  the  mountains,  and  put 
an  end  to  the  joyous  movements  of  this  fair  stranger  with  golden  locks, 
who  has  come  to  guide  their  maidens  to  soft  inebriate  rites.  Suddenly  he 
sees  his  hero  ancestor  and  the  prophet  in  Bacchic  attire.  Bitter  reproaches 
follow ;  the  scene  soon  settling  down  into  the  forensic  contest.  Teiresias 
elaborately  puts  the  case  for  the  god.  Man  has  two  primal  needs  :  one  is 
the  solid  food  of  the  boon  mother,  the  other  has  been  discovered  by  the  son 
of  their  Semele — the  rich  grape's  juice  :  this  beguiles  the  miserable  of  their 
sorrow,  this  gives  all-healing  sleep.  The  author  of  such  blessings  is  recog- 
nized in  heaven  as  a  god  :  yet  Pentheus  puts  scorn  upon  him  by  the  story 
of  the  babe  hidden  in  Jove's  thigh.  [This  is  explained  away  by  a  play 
upon  words,  as  between  Ao  meeros,  thigh,  and  Aomeeros,  a  hostage  ;  Jove  hid 
the  infant  god  in  a  cleft  of  air,  a  hostage  from  the  wrath  of  Her^.]  Proph- 
ecy is  ascribed  to  the  wine-god,  for  phrensy  is  prophetic  ;  and  he  is  an  ally 
in  war,  sending  panic  on  the  foe  ere  lance  crosses  lance.  He  will  soon  be 
a  god  celebrated  through  all  Greece  and  hold  torchdance  on  the  crags  of 
Delphi.  Let  Thebes  take  her  place  among  the  worshippers,  fearing  nought 
for  the  purity  of  its  daughters,  who  will  be  no  less  holy  in  the  revel  than  at 
home. — The  Chorus  approve,  and  Cadmus  follows  on  the  same  side,  urging 
policy  :  a  splendid  falsehood  making  Semele  the  mother  of  a  god  will  ad- 
vance their  household.  Pentheus  shakes  off  Cadmus's  clasp  in  disgust : 
bids  some  of  his  servants  go  and  overturn  the  prophet's  place  of  divination, 
and  others  seek  out  the  stranger  who  leads  the  rebels.  Exit  to  the  palace, 
while  Teiresias  and  Cadmus  depart,  in  horror  at  his  impiety,  in  the  direction 
of  Cithseron.  379 


75 


CHORAL  INTERLUDE  I 
Shocked  at  such  defiance  of  heaven  the  Chorus  invoke  Sanctity,  crowned 
as  goddess  in  the  nether  world,  to  hear  the  awful  words  of  Pentheus,  uttered 
against  the  immortal  son  of  Semele,  first  and  best  of  gods,  ruler  of  the 
flower-crowned  feast,  and  the  dance's  jocund  strife,  and  the  laughter,  and 
the  sparkling  wine-cup,  and  the  sweet  sleep  that  follows  the  festival. 
Sorrow  closes  the  lot  of  such  aweless,  unbridled  madness  :  stability  is  for 
the  calmly  reverent  life,  knitting  whole  houses  in  sweet  domestic  harmony. 
Clasp  the  present  of  brief  life  :  no  grasping  after  a  bright  future  with  far- 
fetched wisdom.  Oh,  for  the  lands  where  the  graces  and  sweet  desire  have 
their  haunts,  and  young  loves  soothe  the  heart  with  tender  guile :  fit  regions 
for  the  Bacchanals,  whose  joy  is  Peace— wealth-giver  to  rich  and  poor. 
Away  with  stem  austerity  :  hail  the  homely  wisdom  of  the  multitude.      439 

EPISODE  II 

An  officer  brings  in  Dionysus  as  prisoner  :  he  has  yielded  himself  without 
resistance,  while  as  for  the  imprisoned  worshippers  their  chains  have  fallen 
off  spontaneous,  and  they  are  away  to  the  revels  on  the  mountains.  In 
long-drawn  parallel  dialogue  Pentheus  questions  the  Stranger— struck  with 
his  beauty  through  he  be.  Dionysus  calmly  answers  to  every  point,  but 
allows  the  orgies  are  secret  and  must  not  be  revealed  to  the  uninitiated. 
The  King  threatens  in  vain. 

Pen.  First  I  will  clip  away  those  soft  bright  locks. 

I>io.  My  locks  are  holy,  dedicate  to  my  god. 

Fen.  Next,  give  thou  me  that  thyrsus  in  thy  hand. 

Dto.  Take  it  thyself ;  'tis  Dionysus'  wand. 

Pen.  I'll  bind  thy  body  in  strong  iron  chains. 

Z>w.  My  god  himself  will  loose  them  when  he  will. 

Pen.  When  thou  invok'st  him  'mid  thy  Bacchanals. 

Dto.  Even  now  he  is  present,  he  beholds  me  now. 

Pen.  Where  is  he  then  ?  mine  eyes  perceive  him  not. 

£>io.  Near  me  :  the  impious  eyes  may  not  discem  him. 

The  king  relies  on  his  superior  strength. 

Dio.     Thou  knowest  not  where  thou  art  or  what  thou  art. 
Pen.     Pentheus,  Agave's  son,  my  sire  Echion. 
Dio.    Thou  hast  a  name  whose  very  sound  is  woe. 

Dionysus  is  removed  a  prisoner  to  the  palace  of  Pentheus,  while  the  latter 
retires  to  prepare  measures  against  the  Maenads. 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  II 

The  Chorus,  addressing  the  landscape  before  them,  expostulate  with  the 
sacred  stream  in  which  the  infant  god  was  dipped  for  not  accepting  the 
divinity  whose  mystic  name  is  *  Twice-born.'  They  call  upon  Dionysus  to 
see  them  from  Olympus,  his  rapt  prophets  at  strife  with  dark  necessity,  and, 
golden  wand  in  hand,  to  come  to  their  rescue  against  the  threats  of  the 
proud  dragon-brood.  They  are  wondering  what  fair  land  of  song  may  be 
holding  their  sacred  leader,  when  cries  from  within  put  an  end  to  the  ode. 

582 
EPISODE  III 

In  wild  lyric  snatches  shouts  are  interchanged  between  Dionysus  within 
and  groups  of  the  disordered  Chorus,  bringing  crut  the  tumultuous  scene — 
the  earth  rocking  beneath  them,  sounds  of  crashing  masonry,  capitals  of 
pillars  hurled  through  the  air  :  then  6y  the  machinery  of  the  hemicyclium  the 
whole  scene  left  of  the  center  disappears  and  is  replaced  by  a  tableau  represent- 


76 

ing  Pentheus'  palace  in  ruins,  and  the  smoldering  tomb  of  Semele  surmounted 
by  bright  flame.  From  the  ruins  steps  Dionysus^  unharmed  and  free^  the 
metre  braking  into  accelerated  rhythm.  613 

Die.    O,  ye  Barbarian  women,  Thus  prostrate  in  dismay ; 
Upon  the  earth  ye've  fallen  !  See  ye  not  as  ye  may, 
How  Bacchus  Pentheus'  palace  In  wrath  hath  shaken  down  ? 
Rise  up  !  rise  up  !  take  courage — Shake  o£f  that  trembling  swoon. 

Chor.  O  light  that  goodliest  shinest  Over  our  mystic  rite, 

In  state  forlorn  we  saw  thee — Saw  with  what  deep  affright ! 

Die.     How  to  despair  ye  yielded  As  I  boldly  entered  in 
To  Pentheus,  as  if  captured,  into  that  fatal  gin. 

Chor,  How  could  I  less  ?    Who  guards  us  If  thou  shouldst  come  to  woe  ? 
But  how  wast  thou  delivered  From  thy  ungodly  foe  ? 

Dio.     Myself  myself  delivered  With  ease  and  effort  slight. 

Chor.  Thy  hands  had  he  not  bound  them  In  halters  strong  and  tight  ? 

Dio,     'Twas  even  then  I  mocked  him  :  He  thought  me  in  his  chain  ; 

He  touched  me  not  nor  reached  me  ;  His  idle  thoughts  were  vain  ! 
In  the  stable  stood  a  heifer  Where  he  thought  he  had  me  bound ; 
Round  the  beast's  knees  his  cords  And  cloven  hoofs  he  wound, 
Wrath-breathing,  from  his  body  The  sweat  fell  like  a  flood, 
He  bit  his  lips  in  fury.  While  I  beside  who  stood 
Looked  on  in  unmoved  quiet. 

As  at  that  instant  come, 
Shook  Bacchus  the  strong  palace,  And  on  his  mother's  tomb 
Flames  kindled.     When  he  saw  it,  on  fire  the  palace  deeming, 
Hither  he  rushed  and  thither.  For  *  Water,  water,'  screaming ; 
And  every  slave  'gan  labor.  But  labored  all  in  vain. 
The  toil  he  soon  abandoned.     As  though  I  had  fled  amain 
He  rushed  into  the  palace  :  In  his  hand  the  dark  sword  gleamed. 
Then  as  it  seemed,  great  Bromius — I  say  but,  as  it  seemed — 
In  the  hall  a  bright  light  kindled.     On  that  he  rushed,  and  there, 
As  slaying  me  in  vengeance.  Stood  stabbing  the  thin  air. 
But  then  the  avenging  Bacchus  Wrought  new  calamities ; 
From  roof  to  base  that  palace  In  smouldering  ruin  lies. 
Bitter  ruing  our  imprisonment.  With  toil  forespent  he  threw 
On  earth  his  useless  weapon.     Mortal,  he  had  dared  to  do 
'Gainst  a  god  unholy  battle.     But  I,  in  quiet  state,' 
Unheeding  Pentheus'  anger.  Came  through  the  palace  gate. 
It  seems  even  now  his  sandal  Is  sounding  on  its  way  ; 
Soon  is  he  here  before  us.  And  what  now  will  he  say  ? 
With  ease  will  I  confront  him,  Ire-breathing  though  he  stand. 
*Tis  easy  to  a  wise  man  To  practice  self-command.  651 

Blank  verse  is  resumed  as  Pentheus  enters,  and  meets  his  escaped  prisoner 
who  calmly  confronts  him.  As  Pentheus  begins  to  threaten,  Dionysus  ad- 
vises him  first  to  hear  the  messenger  even  now  entering  from  Cithseron. 
An  elaborate  Messenger's  Speech  describes  the  miraculous  life  of  the  Msenads 
as  they  lie  on  the  mountains,  careless  but  not  immodest.  At  the  touch  of 
their  thyrsus  the  rock  yields  dew  and  the  soil  wine ;  their  fingers  lightly 
scraping  the  soil  draw  streams  of  exquisite  milk,  and  honey  distils  from 
their  ivied  staffs.  A  city-bred  agitator  stirred  up  the  herdsmen  to  confront 
them,  but  the  phrensied  women  drove  the  men  before  them,  and  tore  the 
herds  to  pieces ;  like  a  flock  of  birds  they  skimmed  along  the  land,  and  all 
gave  way  before  them. 

And  what  they  threw  across  their  shoulders,  clung 
Unfastened,  nor  fell  down  to  the  black  ground, 


17 


No  brass,  nor  ponderous  iron ;  on  their  locks 
Was  fire  that  burned  them  not. 

Then  god-given  fountains  washed  off  the  stains  of  their  toil,  and  their  ser- 
pents licked  them  clean.  Even  the  Messenger  advises  submission  to  so 
mighty  a  god,  dispensing  such  gifts. 

Pentheus  breathes  nothing  but  defiance,  and  issues  orders  for  the  whole 
military  of  Thebes  to  assemble.  Yet  he  is  bewildered  by  the  stranger, 
who  doing  or  suffering  still  holds  his  peace.  In  long-drawn  parallel  verses  ^ 
Dionysus  gradually  assumes  the  friend,  and  — still  warning  the  king  that  he ' 
is  on  the  side  of  the  god  —  insinuates  into  the  mind  of  Pentheus  the  idea  of 
visiting  the  scene,  disguised  in  the  feminine  robes  of  the  revellers.  As  the 
king  retires  to  prepare,  Dionysus  proclaims  that  he  is  fallen  into  the  net,  and 
vengeance  shall  first  deprive  him  of  sense  and  then  destroy  him.  868 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  III 

As  the  crisis  comes  nearer  the  Chorus  long  for  the  moment  of  escape — the 
sensation  of  the  hart  that  has  leaped  the  net  and  with  storm  wind  haste 
escaped  the  hunter's  pursuit  and  reached  the  silent  shadow  of  the  old  hospi- 
table wood.  Victory  is  the  joy  of  joys.  Slow  and  true  are  the  aveng- 
ing deities,  with  printless  foot  hounding  the  impious  along  their  winding 
path :  for  law  is  old  as  oldest  time.  Victory  is  the  joy  of  joys.  Happy 
the  sailor  in  port,  he  whose  race  is  o'er  :  hopes  hover  over  thousands,  but 

Happiness  alone  is  his 

That  happy  is  to-day.  922 

EPISODE  IV 

Pentheus  appears  from  the  palace  of  Cadmus  in  disguise  as  a  Maenad. 
Infatuation  has  become  a  phrensy :  he  sees  double,  Dionysus  seems  a  bull, 
his  eyes  penetrate  into  distance  and  i>erceive  his  mother  and  her  comrades. 
Unconscious  of  the  laughter  of  Dionysus  he  adjusts  his  feminine  dress  and 
practices  the  Maenad  step.     Irony  is  added  : 

Dio.  Follow  me  !  thy  preserver  goes  before  thee ; 

Another  takes  thee  hence. 
Pen.  Mean'st  thou  my  mother  ? 

Dio.  Aloft  shalt  thou  be  borne  — 
Pen,  O  the  soft  carriage ! 

Dio.  In  thy  mother's  hands. 

Pen.  Wilt  make  me  thus  luxurious  ? 

Dio.  Strange  luxury,  indeed  ! 
Pen,  'Tis  my  desert. 

Exclaiming  in  ambiguous  phrase  as  to  the  awful  end  to  which  he  is  destined, 
Dionysus  leads  the  king  out  towards  Cithaerou.  986 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  IV 

The  crisis  is  come  !  Ho,  to  the  mountains  ;  where  the  Chorus  picture  the 
scene  already  being  enacted,  the  hunter  of  the  Bacchanals  caught  in  the 
inexorable  net  of  death.  Vengeance  on  the  lawless  son  of  Echion  is 
the  recurrent  burden  of  the  ode.  Its  prayer  is  to  hold  fast  the  pious  mind, 
the  smooth  painless  life  at  peace  with  heaven  and  earth,  instead  of  fighting 
with  the  invincible,  aweless  outcast  from  all  law.  1036 

EPISODE  V 

A  Messenger's  Speech  describes  the  catastrophe.  How  Pentheus,  arrived 
within  sight  of  the  orderly  Maenads,  was  not  satisfied,  but  desired  a  higher 


7^ 


station  from  which  to  view  their  unseemly  life.  Then  a  wonder:  the 
stranger  bent  down  an  ash  tree,  and  seating  Pentheus  in  a  fork  of  it  let  the 
tree  return  to  its  position,  holding  the  wretched  king  aloft,  seen  of  all. 

The  stranger  from  our  view  had  vanished  quite. 

Then  from  the  heavens  a  voice,  as  it  should  seem, 

Dionysus,  shouted  loud,  "  Behold,  I  brings 

O  maidens,  him  that  you  and  me,  our  rites, 

Our  orgies  laughed  to  scorn  ;  now  take  your  vengeance." 

And  as  he  spake,  a  light  of  holy  fire 

Stood  up,  and  blazed  from  earth  straight  up  to  heaven. 

Silent  the  air,  silent  the  verdant  grove 

Held  its  still  leaves  ;  no  sound  of  living  thing. 

They,  as  their  ears  just  caught  the  half-heard  voice, 

Stood  up  erect,  and  rolled  their  wandering  eyes. 

Again  he  shouted.     But  when  Cadmus'  daughters 

Heard  manifest  the  god's  awakening  voice. 

Forth  rushed  they,  fleeter  than  the  winged  dove, 

Their  nimble  feet  quick  coursing  up  and  down. 

How  then  the  Maenads  set  upon  him  and  tore  him  to  pieces,  his  own  mother 
leading  them  on  :  in  triumph  dance  they  are  bringing  his  head  to  the  city. 
Adore  the  gods,  IS  the  moral.  Ii54 

CHORAL  INTERLUDE  V 
A  short  outburst  of  triumph  from  the  Chorus  :  then  the 


ii8o 


EXODUS 


begms  with  the  approach  of  the  Maenads,  Agave  bearing  her  son's  head  on 
a  thyrsus.  In  a  brief  lyric  concerto  between  her  and  the  mocking  Chorus 
her  phrensied  triumph  is  brought  out,  and  how  she  takes  the  bleeding  object 
to  be  head  of  a  young  lion.  At  that  moment  the  trumpet  sounds,  and 
the  army  that  had  been  summoned  appears  at  the  Electran  gate.  Agave 
turns  to  them,  and  (in  blank  verse)  calls  all  Thebans  to  behold  the  quarry 
she  has  taken  without  the  useless  weapons  of  the  hunter ;  it  shall  be  nailed 
up  a  trophy  before  her  father's  house.  Shortly  after  enters  on  the  right  a 
melancholy  procession  of  Cadmus  and  his  servants  bearing  the  fragments  of 
Pentheus'  body^  with  difficulty  discovered  and  pieced  together.  In  extended 
parallel  dialogue  between  Cadmus  and  Evadne  the  phrensy  gradually  passes 
away  from  her  and  she  recognizes  the  deed  she  has  done.  Cadmus 
sums  up  the  final  situation :  all  the  house  enwrapped  in  one  dread  doom. 
The  Chorus  sympathize  with  Cadmus,  but  have  no  pity  for  Agave.  She 
then  follows  with  a  rhesis  of  woe,  interrupted  by  1365 

DIVINE  INTERVENTION 

Dionysus  appears  aloft,  in  divine  form.  The  MSS.  are  defective  here  :  from 
what  we  have  the  god  appears  to  be  painting  the  future  of  Cadmus  :  life  in 
a  dragon  form,  victories  at  the  head  of  barbarian  hosts,  finally  the  Isles  of 
the  Blest.  Agave  as  stained  with  blood  is  banished  the  land,  vainly  implor- 
ing the  god's  mercy.  With  lamentations  at  the  thought  of  exile,  which  is 
the  lot  of  both,  the  play  ends. 


Prometheus* 


Chorus. 


Prometheus. 


79 


PASSAGES 


Evolution  of  human  life 

List  rather  to  the  deeds 
I  did  tor  mortals :  how,  being  fools  before 
I  made  them  wise  and  true  in  aim  of  soul. 
And  let  me  tell  you  —  not  as  taunting  men. 
But  teaching  you  the  intention  of  my  gifts  — 
How,  first  beholding,  they  beheld  in  vain. 
And  hearing,  heard  not,  but  like  shapes  in  dreams 
Mixed  all  things  wildly  down  the  tedious  time ; 
Nor  knew  to  build  a  house  against  the  sun 
With  wicketed  sides,  nor  any  woodcraft  knew. 
But  lived,  like  silly  ants,  beneath  the  ground, 
In  hollow  caves  unsunned.    There  came  to  them 
No  stedfast  sign  of  winter  nor  of  spring. 
Flower  perfumed,  nor  summer  full  of  fruit ; 
But  blindly  and  lawlessly  they  did  all  things, 
Until  I  taught  them  how  the  stars  do  rise 
And  set  in  mystery,  and  devised  for  them 
Number,  the  inducer  of  philosophies. 
The  synthesis  of  letters,  and,  beside. 
The  artificer  of  all  things,  Memory, 
That  sweet  Muse- Mother.     I  was  first  to  yoke 
f  he  servile  beasts   n  couples,  carrying 
An  heirdom  of  man's  burdens  on  their  backs. 
I  joined  to  chariots  steeds  that  love  the  bit 
They  champ  at —  the  chief  pomp  of  golden  ease. 
And  none  but  I  originated  ships. 
The  seaman's  chariots  wandering  on  the  brine, 
Witl;  linen  wings.     And  I  —  oh  miserable  I  — 
Who  did  devise  for  mortals  all  these  arts. 
Have  no  device  left  now  to  save  myself 
From  the  woe  I  suffer. 

Most  unseemly  woe 
Thou  sufferest,  and  dost  stagger  from  the  sense 
Bewildered  !  like  a  bad  leech  falling  sick, 
Thou  art  faint  at  soul,  and  canst  not  find  the  drugs 
Required  to  save  thyself. 

Hearken  the  rest, 
And  marvel  further,  what  more  arts  and  means 
I  did  invent,  this  greatest :  if  a  man 
Fell  sick  there  was  no  cure,  nor  esculent, 
Nor  chrism,  nor  liquid,  but  for  lack  of  drugs 
Men  pined  and  wasted,  till  I  showed  them  all 
Those  mixtures  of  emollient  remedies. 
Whereby  they  might  be  rescued  from  disease, 
I  fixed  the  various  rules  of  mantic  art. 
Discerned  the  vision  from  the  common  dream. 
Instructed  them  in  vocal  auguries. 
Hard  to  interpret,  and  defined  as  plain 
The  wayside  omens  —  flights  of  crook-clawed  birds 


So 


Showed  which  are,  by  their  nature,  fortunate. 
And  which  not  so,  and  what  the  food  of  each. 
And  what  the  hates,  affections,  social  needs. 
Of  all  to  one  another,— taught  what  sign 
Of  visceral  lightness,  colored  to  a  shade, 
May  charm  the  genial  gods,  and  what  fair  spots 
Commend  the  lung  and  liver.     Burning  so 
The  limbs  encased  in  fat,  and  the  long  chine, 
I  led  my  mortals  on  to  an  art  abstruse, 
And  cleared  their  eyes  to  the  image  in  the  fire. 
Erst  filmed  in  dark.     Enough  said  now  of  this : 
For  the  other  helps  of  man  hid  underground, 
The  iron  and  the  brass,  silver  and  gold. 
Can  any  dare  affirm  he  found  them  out 
Before  me  ?    None,  I  know,  unless  he  choose 
To  lie  in  his  vaunt.    In  one  word  learn  the  whole : 
That  all  arts  come  to  mortals  from  Prometheus. 

^schylus:    Prometheus.    [Mrs.  Browning's  translation.] 


{For  comparison  with  the  preceding) 

Warmly  this  argument  with  others  oft 

Have  I  disputed,  who  assert  that  ill 

To  mortal  man  assign'd  outweighs  the  good. 

Far  otherwise  I  deem,  that  good  is  dealt 

To  man  in  larger  portions :  were  it  not. 

We  could  not  bear  the  light  of  life.     That  Power, 

Whatever  god  he  be,  that  called  us  forth 

From  foul  and  savage  life,  hath  my  best  thanks. 

Inspiring  reason  first,  he  gave  the  tongue 

Articulate  sounds,  the  intercourse  of  language  : 

The  fruits  of  earth  he  gave,  and  to  that  growth 

The  heaven-descending  rain,  that  from  the  earth, 

Cheer'd  by  its  kindly  dews,  they  might  arise. 

And  bear  their  life-sustaining  food  mature  :  to  this 

The  warm  defense  against  th'  inclement  storm 

He  taught  to  raise,  and  the  umbrageous  roof 

The  fiery  sun  excluding :  the  tall  bark 

He  gave  to  bound  o'er  the  wide  sea,  and  bear 

From  realm  to  realm  in  grateful  interchange 

The  fruits  each  wants.     Is  aught  obscure,  aught  hid  ? 

Doubts  darkening  on  the  mind  the  mounting  blaze 

Removes ;  or  from  the  entrail's  panting  fibres 

The  seer  divines,  or  from  the  flight  of  birds. 

Are  we  not  then  fastidious  to  repine 

At  such  a  life  so  fumish'd  by  the  gods  ? 

Euripides:    Suppliants  21^,    (Potter.) 


Specimen  of  Accelerated  Rhythm  in  the  exact  metre 

Agisthus 
How  thy  word  and  act  shall  issue  thou  shalt  shortly  understand. 


^ 


Si 


Chorus 

Up  to  action,  O  my  comrades !  for  the  fight  is  hard  at  hand. 

Swift,  your  right  hands  to  the  sword  hilt !  bare  the  weapon  as  for  strife. 

iEciSTHUS 

Lo  !  I  too  am  standing  ready,  hilt  to  hilt,  for  death  or  life ! 

Chorus 

'Twas  thy  word  and  we  accept  it !  onward  to  the  chance  of  war  I 

Clytemnestra 

Nay,  enough,  enough,  my  champion  !  we  will  smite  and  slay  no  more. 

Already  we  have  heaped  enough  the  harvest-field  of  guilt. 

Enough  of  wrong  and  murder,  let  no  other  blood  be  spilt ! 

Peace,  old  men !  and  pass  away  into  the  homes  by  fate  decreed. 

Lest  ill  valor  meet  our  vengeance — 'twas  a  necessary  deed. 

But  enough  of  toils  and  troubles — be  the  end,  if  ever,  now. 

Ere  the  wrath  of  the  Avenger  deal  another  deadly  blow. 

'Tis  a  woman's  word  of  warning,  and  let  who  will  listen  thereto » 

iEciSTHUS 

But  that  these  should  loose  and  lavish  reckless  blossoms  of  the  tongue, 
And  in  hazard  of  their  fortune  cast  upon  me  words  of  wrong. 
And  forget  the  law  of  subjects,  and  to  heed  their  ruler's  word — 

Chorus 

Ruler  ?  but  'tis  not  for  Argives,  thus  to  own  a  dastard  lord  ! 

iEciSTHUS 

I  will  follow  to  chastise  thee  in  my  coming  days  of  sway. 

Chorus 
Not  if  Fortune  guide  Orestes  safely  on  his  homeward  way. 

Agisthus 
Ah,  well  I  know  how  exiles  feed  on  hopes  of  their  return  I 

Chorus 
Feed  and  batten  on  pollution  of  the  right,  while  'tis  thy  turn  1 

yEciSTHUS 

Thou  shalt  pay,  be  well  assured,  heavy  quittance  for  thy  pride. 

Chorus 

Crow  and  strut,  with  her  beside  thee,  like  a  cock,  his  mate  beside  I 

Clytemnestra 

Heed  not  thou  too  highly  of  them — let  the  cur-pack  growl  and  yell — 
I  and  thou  will  rule  the  palace  and  will  order  all  things  well  ?  ^ 

Conclusion  of  Agamemnon.     (Morshead.) 

4 

Scene  from  the  *  Hercules  Mad"*  of  Euripides 

Translated  by  Robert  Browning 

Chorus  of  Old  Men 

Horror ! 

Are  we  come  to  the  self -same  passion  of  fear. 

Old  friends  ? — such  a  phantasm  fronts  me  here 

Visible  over  the  palace-roof  ! 

In  flight,  in  flight,  the  laggard  limb 

Bestir,  and  haste  aloof 


Sa 


From  that  on  the  roof  there — grand  and  grim  I 

0  Paian,  king  I 

Be  thou  my  safeguard  from  the  woeful  thing  ! 

Iris 

Courage,  old  men  !  beholding  here — Night's  birth — 
Madness,  and  me  the  handmaid  of  the  gods, 
Iris :  since  to  your  town  we  come  no  plague — 
Wage  war  against  the  house  of  but  one  man 
From  Zeus  and  from  Alkmend  sprung,  they  say. 
Now,  till  he  made  an  end  of  bitter  toils 
Fate  kept  him  safe,  nor  did  his  father  Zeus 
Let  us  once  hurt  him,  Her^  nor  myself. 
But  since  he  has  toiled  through  Eurustheus*  task 
Herd  desires  to  fix  fresh  blood  on  him — 
Slaying  his  children :     I  desire  it  too. 

Up  then,  collecting  the  unsoftened  heart, 

Unwedded  virgin  of  black  Night !  Drive,  drag, 

Frenzy  upon  the  man  here — whirls  of  brain 

Big  with  child-murder,  while  his  feet  leap  gay. 

Let  go  the  bloody  cable  its  whole  length  ! 

So  that, — when  o'er  the  Acherousian  ford 

He  has  sent  floating,  by  self-homicide. 

His  beautiful  boy-garland, — he  may  know 

First,  Herd's  anger,  what  it  is  to  him. 

And  then  learn  mine.     The  gods  are  vile  indeed 

And  mortal  matters  vast,  if  he  'scai>e  free. 

Madness 

Certes,  from  well-bom  sire  and  mother  too 

Had  I  my  birth,  whose  blood  is  Night's  and  Heaven's ; 

But  here's  my  glory, — not  to  grudge  the  good  I 

Nor  love  I  raids  against  the  friends  of  man. 

1  wish,  then,  to  persuade,  before  I  see 

You  stumbling,  you  and  Herd  :  trust  my  words  I 
This  man,  the  house  of  whom  ye  hound  me  to. 
Is  not  unfamed  on  earth,  nor  gods  among ; 
Since,  having  quelled  waste  land  and  savage  sea. 
He  alone  raised  again  the  falling  rights 
Of  gods — gone  ruinous  through  impious  men. 
Desire  no  mighty  mischief,  I  advise  ! 

Iris 

Give  thou  no  thought  to  Herd's  faulty  schemes ! 

Madness 

Changing  her  step  from  faulty  to  fault-free ! 

Iris 

Not  to  be  wise,  did  Zeus*  wife  send  thee  here  t 

Madness 

Sun,  thee  I  cite  to  witness — doing  what  I  loath  to  do  I 
But  since  indeed  to  Herd  and  thyself  I  must  subserve. 
And  follow  you  quick,  with  a  whizz,  as  the  hounds  a-hunt  with  the  huntsman, 
— Go  I  will !  and  neither  the  sea,  as  it  groans  with  its  waves  so  furiously, 
Nor  earthquake,  no,  nor  the  bolt  of  thunder  gasping  out  heaven's  labor- 
throe. 


83 


Shall  cover  the  ground  as  I,  at  a  bound,  rush  into  the  bosom  of  Herakles  ! 

And  home  I  scatter  and  house  I  batter. 

Having  first  of  all  made  the  children  fall, — 

And  he  who  felled  them  is  never  to  know 

He  gave  birth  to  each  child  that  received  the  blow, 

Till  the  Madness  I  am  have  let  him  go ! 

Ha,  behold,  already  he  rocks  his  head — he  is  off  from  the  starting  place  ! 
Not  a  word,  as  he  rolls  his  frightful  orbs,  from  their  sockets  wrenched  in 

the  ghastly  race  ! 
And  the  breathings  of  him  he  tempers  and  times  no  more  than  a  bull  in 

act  to  toss, 
And  hideously  he  bellows  invoking  the  Keres,  daughters  of  Tartaros. 
Ay   and   I  soon  will  dance  thee  madder,  and  pipe   thee  quite  out  of  thy 

mind  with  fear  ! 
So,  up  with  the  famous  foot,  thou  Iris,  march  to  Olumpus,  leave  me  here  ! 
Me  and  mine,  who  now  combine,  in  the  dreadful  shape  no  mortal  sees, 
And  now  are  about  to  pass,  from  without,  inside  of  the  home  of  Herakles ! 

Choral  Ode 

Otototoi, — groan  :     Away  is  mown 

Thy  flower,  Zeus'  offspring.  City  ! 

Unhappy  Hellas,  who  dost  cast  (the  pity  !) 

Who  worked  thee  all  the  good. 

Away  from  thee, — destroyest  in  a  mood 

Of  Madness  him,  to  death  whom  pipings  dance ! 

There  goes  she,  in  her  chariot, — groans,  her  brood — 

And  gives  her  team  the  goad,  as  though  adrift 

For  doom,  Night's  Gorgon,  Madness,  she  whose  glance 

Turns  man  to  marble  !  with  what  hissings  lift 

Their  hundred  heads  the  snakes,  her  head's  inheritance  I 

Quick  has  the  god  changed  fortune  :  through  their  sire 

Quick  will  the  children,  that  he  saved,  expire  ! 

O  miserable  me  !  O  Zeus  !  thy  child — 

Childless  himself — soon  vengeance,  hunger-wild. 

Craving  for  punishment,  will  lay  how  low — 

Loaded  with  manv  a  woe  ! 

O  palace-roofs  !  your  courts  about, 

A  measure  begins  all  unrejoiced 

By  the  tympanies  and  the  thyrsos  hoist 

Of  the  Bromian  revel-rout, 

O  ye  domes  !  and  the  measure  proceeds 

For  blood,  not  such  as  the  cluster  bleeds 

Of  the  Dionusian  pouring-out ! 

Break  forth  !  fly,  children  !  fatal  this— 

Fatal  the  lay  that  is  piped,  I  wis  ! 

Ay,  for  he  hunts  a  children-chase — 

Never  shall  madness  lead  her  revel 

And  leave  no  trace  in  the  dwelling-place  ! 

Ai,  ai,  because  of  the  evil ! 

Ai,  ai,  the  old  man — how  I  groan 

For  the  father,  and  not  the  father  alone  ! 

She  who  was  nurse  of  his  children  small, — small 

Her  gain  that  they  never  were  born  at  all ! 

See  !  see ! 

A  whirlwind  shakes  hither  and  thithej* 


84 


The  house — the  roof  falls  in  together  ! 

Ha,  ha,  what  dost  thou,  son  of  Zeus  ? 

A  trouble  of  Tartaros  broke  loose. 

Such  as  once  Pallas  on  the  Titan  thundered, 

Thou  sendest  on  thy  domes,  roof -shattered  and  wall -sundered. 


Ideas  of  Deity 


None  of  mortal  men 
Escape  unhurt  by  fortune,  nor  the  gods. 
Unless  the  stories  of  the  bards  be  false. 
Have  they  not  formed  connubial  ties  to  which 
No  law  assents?     Have  they  not  gall'd  with  chains 
Their  fathers  through  ambition  ?    Yet  they  hold 
Their  mansions  on  Olympus,  and  their  wrongs 
With  patience  bear.  Euripides  .    Hercules 


1414 


These  are  your  works,  ye  gods  !  these  changes  fraught 

With  horrible  confusion,  mingled  thus 

That  we  through  ignorance  might  worship  you. 

Euripides  :  Hecuba  943. 
7 
O  supreme  of  heav*n. 
What  shall  we  say  ?  that  thy  firm  providence 
Regards  mankind  ?  or  vain  the  thoughts,  which  deem 
That  the  just  gods  are  rulers  in  the  sky, 
Since  tyrant  fortune  lords  it  o'er  the  world  ?  Ditto  470 


Mortal  as  I  am 
In  virtue  I  exceed  thee,  though  a  god 
Of  mighty  pow'r ;  for  I  have  not  betray'd 
The  sons  of  Hercules :  well  did'st  thou  know 
To  come  by  stealth  unto  my  couch,  t'  invade 
A  bed  not  thine,  nor  leave  obtained ;  to  save 
Thy  friends  thou  dost  not  know  ;  thou  art  a  god 
In  wisdom  or  in  justice  little  vers'd.  Euripides  :  Hercules  385 

9 

I  deem  not  of  the  gods,  as  having  form'd 
Connubial  ties  to  which  no  law  assents. 
Nor  as  oppressed  with  chains  :  disgraceful  this 
I  hold,  nor  ever  will  believe  that  one 
Lords  it  o'er  others  :  of  no  foreign  aid 
The  god,  who  is  indeed  a  god,  hath  need  : 
These  are  the  wretched  fables  of  the  bards. 

Euripides:  Hercules  1444 
10 

O  Jove,  who  rulest  the  rolling  of  the  earth. 
And  o'er  it  hast  thy  throne,  whoe'er  thou  art, 
The  ruling  mind,  or  the  necessity 
Of  nature,  I  adore  thee  :  dark  thy  ways, 
And  silent  are  thy  steps ;  to  mortal  man 
Y^t  thou  with  justice  all  things  dost  ordain. 

Euripides :  Daughters  of  Troy  955, 


85 


iz 

Was  this  then  human,  or  divine? 
Did  it  a  middle  nature  share? 
What  mortal  shall  declare? 
Who  shall  the  secret  bounds  define? 
When  the  gods  work  we  see  their  pow'r ; 
We  see  on  their  high  bidding  wait 
The  prosperous  gales,  the  storms  of  fate  : 
But  who  their  awful  councils  shall  explore? 

Euripides:  Helena  1235. 
12 

And  those,  the  Ever- Virgin  ones,  I  call, 
Erinnyes  dread  that  see  all  human  deeds. 
Swift-footed,  that  they  mark  how  I  am  slain 
By  you  Atreidse  ;  may  they  seize  on  them. 
Doers  of  evil,  with  all  evil  plagues 
And  uttermost  destruction. 

Sophocles:  Ajaxgyj  [Plumptre]. 

Passing  bits  of  Nature-Painting 

13 

Thou  firmament  of  God,  and  swift-wing'd  winds, 
Ye  springs  of  rivers,  and  of  ocean  waves 
That  smile  innumerous  !  Mother  of  us  all, 

0  Earth,  and  Sun's  all-seeing  eye,  behold, 

1  pray,  what  I  a  God  from  Gods  endure. 

-^schylus :  Prometheus  88  [Plumptre]. 

14 

A  Sacred  Spot 

This  spot  is  holy,  one  may  clearly  tell, 

Full  as  it  is  of  laurel,  olive,  vine. 

And  many  a  nightingale  within  sings  sweetly. 

Rest  my  limbs  here  upon  this  roughly-hewn  rock. 

Sophocles:  (Edipus at  Colonus  16. 

15 

A  Grove  of  the  Furies 

Rush  not  on 
Through  voiceless,  grass-grown  grove. 
Where  blends  with  rivulet  of  honey'd  stream 

The  cup  of  water  clear.  Do.  1 56. 

16 

A  Meadow  of  Artemis 

Thee,  goddess,  to  adorn  I  bring  this  crown 
Enwoven  with  the  various  flowers  that  deck 
The  unshorn  mead,  where  never  shepherd  dared 
To  feed  his  flock,  and  the  scythe  never  came. 
But  o'er  its  vernal  sweets  unshorn  the  bee 
Ranges  at  will,  and  hush'd  in  reverence  glides 
Th'  irnguous  streamlet :  garish  art  hath  there 


86 


No  place ;  of  these  the  modest  still  may  cull 
At  pleasure,  interdicted  to  th'  impure. 

Euripedes :  Hippolytus  8i. 

17 

The  Nile. 

These  are  the  streams  of  Nile,  the  jov  of  nymphs. 
Glowing  with  beauty's  radiance  ;  he  "his  floods 
Sweli'd  with  the  melted  snow  o'er  Egypt's  plain 
Irriguous  pours,  to  fertilize  her  fields, 
Th'  ethereal  rain  supplying. 

Euripedes  :  Helena  i. 

18 

The  Nightififrale 

On  thee,  high-nested  in  the  musef  ul  shade 
By  close-inwoven  branches  made. 
Thee,  sweetest  bird,  most  musical 
Of  all  that  warble  their  melodious  song 
The  charmed  woods  among. 
Thee,  tearful  nightingale,  1  call : 
O  come,  and  from  thy  dark-plumed  throat 
Swell  sadly-sweet  thy  melancholy  note. 

Euripedes:  Helena  1191. 

Flight  of  Cranes 

O  might  we  through  the  liquid  sky 

Wing'd  like  the  birds  of  Lybia  fly ; 

Birds,  which  the  change  of  seasons  know, 

And,  left  the  wintry  stonns  and  snow, 

Their  leader's  well-known  call  obey 
O'er  many  a  desert  dry  and  cultured  plain 

He  guides  the  marshall'd  train. 

And  cheers  with  jocund  notes  their  way. 

Ye  birds  that  through  th'  aerial  height 

Your  course  with  clouds  light-sailing  share, 

Your  flight  amidst  the  Pleiads  hold. 
And  where  Orion  nightly  flames  in  gold  ; 

Then  on  Eurota's  banks  alight. 

And  this  glad  message  bear : 
''Your king  from  Troy  shall  reach  once  more. 
With  conquest  crown'd,  his  native  shore." 

Euripedes:  Helena  1603. 
20 

A  Storm 

So  is  it  as  a  wave 

Of  ocean's  billowing  surge 

(Where  Thrakian  storm-winds  rave, 
And  floods  of  darkness  from  the  depths  emerge,) 
Rolls  the  black  sand  from  out  the  lowest  deep, 
And  shores  re-echoing  wail,  as  rough  blasts  o'er  them  sweep. 

Sophocles:  Antigone  586.  [Plumptre.] 


87 


21 


/ 


Steenng  their  rough  course  o'er  this  boisterous  main 

Form'd  in  a  ring  beneath  whose  waves  * 

The  Nereid  train  in  high-arch'd  caves 
Weave  the  light  dance,  and  raise  the  sprightly  song 

Whilst  whisp'nng  in  their  swelling  sails 

Soft  Zephyrs  breathe,  or  southern  gales 

Piping  amidst  their  tackling  play, 

As  their  bark  ploughs  its  wat'ry  way 
Those  hoary  cliffs,  the  haunts  of  birds,  among. 

To  that  wild  strand,  the  rapid  race 

Where  once  Achilles  deigned  to  grace. 

Euripides :  Iphigenia  among  the  Tauri  492. 

(Specimens  of  Gnomic  Verses) 

22 

Amongst  barbarians  all  are  slaves,  save  one. 


23 


Helena  311 


He  is  no  lover  who  not  always  loves. 


24 

What  our  necessities  demand,  becomes 
Of  greater  moment  than  to  conquer  Troy. 

25 

'Tis  not  the  counsel,  but  the  speaker's  worth, 
That  gives  persuasion  to  his  eloquence. 

26 

_  _  ^^  ,,  Skilful  leech 

Mutters  no  spell  o'er  sore  that  needs  the  knife. 


27 

It  is  through  God  that  man  or  laughs  or  mourns. 

28 

w      ,,       ,       ,        No  mortal  man 

May  therefore  be  call'd  happy,  till  you  see 
The  last  of  all  his  days,  and  how,  that  pass'd. 
He  to  the  realms  of  Pluto  shall  descend, 


Daughters  of  Troy  1148. 


Andromache  427. 


Hecuba  266. 


Ajax  581. 


Ajax  383. 


Andromache  114. 


29 

.    ,      ,  All  human  things 

A  day  lays  low,  a  day  lifts  up  again ; 
But  still  the  gods  love  those  of  order'd  soul. 


Ajax  130. 


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The  Ancient  Drama 


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CHICAGO 

(Cbe  JHnitJcr^itp  of  Chicago  prcjrf 
1900 


CONTENTS 


THE  CLOUDS,  of  Aristophanes    - 
THE  BIRDSy  OF  Aristophanes 
LYSISTRATA,  of  Aristophanes      - 
PLUTUSy  OF  Aristophanes 
Scene  from  THE  FROGS,  of  Aristophanes 
TRINUMMUSy  OF  Plautus 


■      3 
II 

.     22 

28 

-    35 
39 


Syllabus  of  Lecture-studies  :  Ancient  Comedy  for  English  Audiences. 


i 


THE  CLOUDS* 

Persons:  Strepsiades  and  his  son  Pheidippides  — Socrates,  Ch^- 
REPhon,  and  others  of  his  disciples  —  Pasias  and  Amynias  (Creditors  of 
Strepsiades),  a  Witness  —  personification  of  Just  and  Unjust  Argument 
—  Chorus  of  the  Clouds. 

PROLOGUE 

The  first  scene  represents  the  Interior  of  Strepsiades'  house  at  night:  Str. 
himself  in  bed.  He  soliloquises  on  family  troubles  ;  especially  his  fast  son 
and  other  expenses  into  which  a  rich  match  has  betrayed  him.  He  can 
think  of  no  way  out  of  the  difficulty  except  to  send  his  son  to  this  new 
School  of  Socrates,  where  they  teach  legal  evasion.  He  calls  Pheidippides 
out  of  his  bed  to  propose  the  plan,  which  Pheid.  does  not  take  to.  The 
father  trying  threats,  Pheid.  runs  off  to  his  rich  uncle  Megacles.  Str.  re- 
solves he  will  go  to  the  School  himself. 

He  traverses  stage  and  knocks  at  Socrates'  door.  The  initiated  door- 
keeper says  he  has  caused  a  great  thought  to  miscarry,  and  the  conversation 
between  the  two  brings  out  the  wonders  of  the  new  learning :  measuring 
fleas'  jumps  by  making  wax  slippers  for  them  —  getting  a  dinner  by  geome- 
try, reinforced  by  stealing  a  cloak  —  here  a  set  of  students  with  heads  on  the 
ground  and  backs  in  the  air  studying  *  things  under  ground  '  \Sir.  supposes 
mushrooms]  —  wonderful  instruments  [probably  ridiculous  utensils]  for  vari- 
ous sciences  — the  novel  wonder  a  Map  [which  makes  Str.  start  back  at  see- 
ing how  near  Sparta  is]  —  many  others  too  coarse  for  mention  —  and  above 
all  Socrates  himself  in  a  hanging  basket  [hit  at  'suspension  of  judgment'] 
—  Str,  then  converses  with  Socrates  himself,  who  explains  as  to  the  basket : 

I  walk  on  air  and  contemplate  the  Sun  ! 
Str.  begs  he  may  learn  Unjust  Argument :  he  will  pay  any  fee  to  his  teacher, 
*  by  the  gods  he  will!'  — 'The  gods  '  are  no  longer  current  coin.  — Then 
what  coin  have  they  ?  Byzantine  iron  ?  —  Soc.  bids  him  sit  on  the  sacred 
bed  with  chaplet  round  his  brow  [the  poor  man  thinks  he  is  about  to  be 
sacrificed],  while  Socrates  invokes  the  True  Goddesses,  his  patrons,  the 
Virgin  Clouds. 

Soc.    Old  man  sit  you  still,  and  attend  to  my  will,  and  hearken  in  peace  to 
my  prayer. 

INVOCATION  OF  CLOUDS 

O  Master  and  King,  holding  earth  in  your  swing,  O  measureless  infi- 
nite Air; 

And  thou,  glowing  Ether,  and  Clouds  who  enwreathe  her  with  thunder 
and  lightning  and  storms, 

Arise  ye  and  shine,  bright  Ladies  Divine,  to  your  student  in  bodily 
forms. 
Str.     No,  but  stay,  no,  but  stay,  just  one  moment,  I  pray,  while  my  cloak 
round  my  temples  I  wrap. 

To  think  that  I've  come,  stupid  fool,  from  my  home,  without  either 
beaver  or  cap  ! 


*  The  quotations  arc  from  Rogers's  translation. 


Soc,  Come  forth,  come  forth,  dread  Clouds,  and  to  earth  your  glorious 
majesty  show ; 

Whether  lightly  ye  rest  on  the  time-honoured  crest  of  Olympus  envi- 
roned in  snow, 

Or  tread  the  soft  dance  'mid  the  stately  expanse  of  old  Ocean,  the 
nymphs  to  beguile. 

Or  stoop  to  enfold  with  your  pitchers  of  gold  the  mystical  waves  of 
the  Nile, 

Or  around  the  white  foam  of  Mseotis  ye  roam,  or  Mimas  all  wintry 
and  bare, 

O  !  hear  while  we  pray,  and  turn  not  away  from  the  rites  which  your 
servants  prepare. 

Voices  heard  from  beneath  the  stage 

Clouds  of  all  hue, 
Rise  we  aloft  with  our  garments  of  dew. 
Come  from  old  Ocean's  unchangeable  bed, 
Come,  till  the  mountain's  green  summits  we  tread, 
Come  to  the  peaks  with  their  landscapes  untold, 
Gaze  on  the  Earth  with  her  harvests  of  gold. 
Gaze  on  the  rivers  in  majesty  streaming. 

Gaze  on  the  lordly,  invincible  sea ; 
Come,  for  the  Eye  of  the  Ether  is  beaming, 
Come,  for  all  nature  is  flashing  and  free. 
Let  us  shake  off  this  close-clinging  dew 
From  our  members  eternally  new. 
And  sail  upwards  the  wide  world  to  view. 
Come  away  !  Come  away  ! 

[Throughout  this  and  similar  scenes  the  grand  l)rrics  arc  continually 
interrupted  by  the  low-souled  Strepsiades,  who  expresses  terror  or  other 
strong  emotion  in  the  same  measure,  but  with  metaphors  or  allusions  too 
coarse  for  quotation]. 

Come  then  with  me. 
Daughters  of  Mist,  to  the  land  of  the  free. 
Come  to  the  people  whom  Pallas  hath  blest. 
Come  to  the  soil  where  the  Mysteries  rest ; 
Come,  where  the  glorified  Temple  invites 
The  pure  to  partake  of  its  mystical  rites : 
Holy  the  gifts  that  are  brought  to  the  Gods, 

Shrines  with  festoons  and  with  garlands  are  crowned, 
Pilgrims  resort  to  the  sacred  abodes. 

Gorgeous  the  festivals  all  the  year  round. 
And  the  Bromian  rejoicings  in  Spring, 
When  the  flutes  with  their  deep  music  ring, 
And  the  sweetly-toned  Choruses  sing. 
Come  away !  Come  away ! 

Sir.    O,  Socrates,  pray  by  all  the  Gods,  say,  for  I  earnestly  long  to  be  told, 
Who  are  these  that  recite  \vith  such  grandeur  and  might  ?     Are  they 
glorified  mortals  of  old  ?  , 

Soc.    No   mortals   are    there,  but  Clouds  of   the  air,  great  Gods  who  the 
indolent  fill : 
These  grant  us  discourse,  and  logical  force,  and  the  art  of  persuasion 
instil. 


And  periphrasis  strange,  and  a  power  to  arrange,  and  a  marvellous 

judgment  and  skill. 
Str.     So  then  when  I  heard  their  omnipotent  word,  my  spirit  felt  all  of  a 

flutter. 
And  it  yearns  to  begin  subtle  cobwebs  to  spin,  and  about  metaphysics 

to  stutter ; 
And  together  to  glue  an  idea  or  two,  and  battle  away  in  replies : 
So  if  it's  not  wrong,  I  earnestly  long  to  behold  them  myself  with  my 

eyes. 

PARODE  OR  CHORUS-ENTRY  AND  EPISODE    I 

At  this  point  the  Clouds  become  visible:  in  gorgeous  vestments  they 
move  slowly  round  the  Orchestra. 

Soc,     Look  up  in  the  air,  toward  Arnes,  out  there,  for  I  see  they  will  pitch 
before  long 
These  regions  about. — Str.  Where?  point  me  them  out. 
Soc,  They  are  drifting,  an  infinite  throng. 

And  their  long  shadows  quake  over  valley  and  brake. 
Str.  Why,  whatever's  the  matter  to-day? 

I  can't  see  them  a  bit. 
Soc.  There,  they're  close  by  the  pit. 

Str.  Ah,  I  just  got  a  glimpse  by  the  way. 

Soc.     There,  now  you  must  see  how  glorious  they  be,  or  your  eyes  must  be 

pumpkins,  I  vow. 
.S^.     Ah,  I  see  them  proceed ;  I  should  think  so  indeed :     Great  powers ! 

they  fill  everything  now. 
Soc.     So  then  till  this  day  that  celestials  were  they,  you  never  imagined  nor 

knew? 
Str.    Why  no,  on  my  word,  for  T  always  had  heard  they  were  nothing  but 

vapour  and  dew. 
Soc.    O,  then  I  declare,  you  can't  be  aware  that  'tis  these  who  the  sophists 
protect. 
Prophets  sent  beyond  sea,  quacks  of  every  degree,  fops  signet-and 

jewel-bedecked. 
Astrological  knaves,  and  fools  who  their  staves  of  dithyrambs  proudly 

rehearse, — 
'Tis  the  Clouds  who  all  these  support  at  their  ease,  because  they  exalt 
them  in  verse. 
Str.     Tis  for  this  then  they  write  of  '  the  terrible  might  of  the  light-flashing, 
rain-splashing  Cloud,' 
And  the  *  dank-matted  curls,  which  the  Tempest  God  whirls,'  and  the 

*  blasts  with  their  trumpets  so  loud,' 
And  •  birds  of  the  sky  floating  upwards  on  high,'  and  *  Clouds  of  first 

water,  which  drown 
With  their  soft  falling  dew  the  great  Ether  so  blue,'  and  then  in  return 

they  gulp  down 
Huge  cutlets  of  pike,  and  game  if  they  like,  most  delicate  game  in  its 
season. 

Strepsiades  cannot  understand  how  it  is  that  they  appear  in  the  shape  of 
women :  Soc.  reminds  him  how  clouds  can  assume  any  shape ;  they  take 
their  shape  from  those  who  happen  to  be  near  them  [this  gives  opportunity 
for  personalities  aimed  at  individuals  in  the  audience\  The  Cloiids  hail  the 
new  student,  who  is  awe-struck. — There  are  no  Gods  but  these. — Except 
Zeus,  pleads  Streps.,  or  who  would  send  the  rain? — Why  these  Goddesses  ; 


M 


did  you  ever  know  rain  without  clouds?  —  But  thunder? — The  motion  of 
these,  as  urged  by  Necessity. — Yes,  but  does  not  Zeus  send  the  necessity? — 
No :  it  is  caused  by  a  vortex. — Strepsiades  sees  now ;  Zeus  is  deposed  and 
Vortex  reigns  in  his  stead. —  But  how  about  the  thunderbolt  and  its  slaying 
perjurers?  — If  it  did  that,  how  is  it  that  Cleonymus  is  living?  [Another  hit 
at  a  person  in  the  audience.]  Besides  it  hits  the  gnarled  oaks :  have  they 
committed  perjury? 

Sir.    Can't  say  that  they  do ;  your  words  appear  true.    Whence  comes  then 

the  Thunderbolt,  pray? 
Sac.     When  a  wind  that  is  dry,  being  lifted  on  high,  is  suddenly  pent  unto 
these, 
It  swells  up  their  skin,  like  a  bladder,  within,  by  Necessity's  changeless 

decrees. 
Till,  compressed  very  tight,  it  bursts  them  outright,  and  away  with  an 

impulse  so  strong. 
That  at  last,  by  the  force  and  the  swing  of  its  course,  it  takes  fire  as 
it  whizzes  along. 
Str,    That's  exactly  the  thing  that  I  suffered  one  Spring,  at  the  great  feast 
of  Zeus,  I  admit; 
I'd  a  paunch  in  the  pot,  but  I  wholly  forgot  about  making  the  safety- 
valve  slit. 
So  it  sputtered  and  swelled,  while  the  saucepan  I  held,  till  at  last  with 

a  vengeance  it  flew: 
Took  me  quite  by  surprise,  dirt-bespattered  my  eyes,  and  scalded  my 
face  black  and  blue. 
Strepsiades  is  at  last  convinced  and  accepts  the  New  Creed  : 

I  believe  in  Wide  Space,  in  the  Clouds,  in  the  Eloquent  Tongue, 

and  gives  himself  up  as  their  servant : 

Str.     So  now,  at  your  word,  I  give  and  afford 
My  body  to  these,  to  treat  as  they  please. 
To  have  and  to  hold,  in  squalour,  in  cold. 
In  hunger,  and  thirst;  yea,  by  Zeus,  at  the  worst. 
To  be  flayed  out  of  shape  from  my  heels  to  my  nape, 
So  along  with  my  hide  from  my  duns  I  escape : 
And  to  men  may  appear  without  conscience  or  fear, 
Bold,  hasty  and  wise,  a  concocter  of  lies ; . 
A  rattler  to  S{>eak,  a  dodger,  a  sneak, 
A  regular  claw  of  the  tables  of  law ; 
A  shuffler  complete,  well  worn  in  deceit. 
A  supple,  unprincipled  troublesome  cheat ; 
A  hang-dog  accurst,  a  bore  with  the  worst, 
In  the  tricks  of  the  jury-courts  thoroughly  versed. 
If  ail  that  I  meet  this  praise  shall  repeat. 
Work  away  as  you  choose,  I  will  nothing  refuse. 
Without  any  reserve,  from  my  head  to  my  shoes. 
You  shan't  see  me  wince,  though  my  gutlets  you  mince, 
And  these  entrails  of  mine  for  a  sausage  combine. 
Served  up  for  the  gentlemen  students  to  dine. 

At  the  request  of  the  Clouds,  Socrates  undertakes  the  old  man's  education. 
He  shows  badly  in  some  preliminary  questions,  but  at  last  is  taken  inside 
with  Socrates.  The  Stage  being  vacant,  the  Chorus  turns  round  so  as  to  face 
the  Audience,  and  proceeds  to  the 


PARABASIS 

Parabasis  Proper.  The  first  part  complains  in  the  Author's  name  of  the 
blunder  of  the  audience  in  passing  over  the  Author's  previous  play,  brought 
out  under  an  assumed  name,  like  a  bantling  its  mother  is  ashamed  to  rear. 
A  second  one  so  brought  out  has  met  with  a  worthier  fate ;  and  the  present 
is  a  sister-play. 

Now  then  comes  its  sister  hither,  like  Electra  in  the  play, 
Comes  in  earnest  expectation  kindred  minds  to  meet  to-day: 
She  will  recognize  full  surely,  if  she  find,  her  brother's  tress. 
And  observe  how  pure  her  morals :  who,  to  notice  first  her  dress, 
Enters  not  with  filthy  symbols  on  her  modest  garments  hung. 
Jeering  bald-heads,  dancing  ballets,  for  the  laughter  of  the  young. 
In  this  play  no  wretched  grey-beard  with  a  staff  his  fellow  pokes. 
So  obscuri!}!?  from  the  audience  all  the  poorness  of  his  jokes ; 
No  one  rushes  in  Tyith  torches,  no  one  groans,  *  Oh  dear!  Oh  dear!  * 
Trusting  in  its  genuine  nierits  comes  this  play  before  you  here. 

They  go  on  to  contrast  (in  the  Author's  iisme)  his  plays  with  his  rivals'.  A 
Strophe  follows :  invocation  to  Zeus  and  Ether  'w.  short  lines.  The  After- 
speech  comes  next,  which,  as  usual,  attacks  some  public  iClW: 

O  most  sapient,  wise  spectators,  hither  turn  attention  due. 
We  complain  of  sad  ill-treatment,  we've  a  bone  to  pick  with  you : 
We  have  ever  helped  your  city,  helped  with  all  our  might  and  main; 
Yet  you  pay  us  no  devotion,  that  is  now  why  we  complain. 
We  who  always  watch  around  you.     For  if  any  project  seems 
Ill-concocted,  then  we  thunder,  then  the  rain  comes  down  in  streams. 
And  remember,  very  lately,  how  we  knit  our  brows  together, 
'Thunders  crashing,  lightnings  flashing,'  never  was  such  awful  weather; 
And  the  Moon  in  haste  eclipsed  her,  and  the  Sun  in  anger  swore 
He  would  curl  his  wick  within  him  and  give  light  to  you  no  more, 
Should  you  choose  that  cursed  reptile,  Cleon,  whom  the  Gods  abhor, 
Tanner,  Slave,  and  Paphlagonian,  to  lead  out  your  hosts  to  war. 
Yet  you  chose  him !  Yet  you  chose  him  !    For  they  say  that  folly  grows 
Best  and  finest  in  this  city;  but  the  gracious  Gods  dispose 
Always  all  things  for  the  better,  causing  errors  to  succeed : 
And  how  this  sad  joke  may  profit,  surely  he  who  runs  may  read. 
Let  the  Cormorant  be  convicted,  in  command,  of  bribes  and  theft, 
I,et  us  have  him  gagged  and  muzzled,  in  the  pillory  chained  and  left. 
Then  again,  in  ancient  fashion,  all  that  ye  have  erred  of  late, 
Will  turn  out  your  own  advantage,  and  a  blessing  to  the  state. 

After  an  Antistrophe  [same  metre  as  Strophe] :  invocation  to  various  gods : 
we  have  next  the  After-response. 

We,  when  we  had  finished  packing  and  prepared  our  journey  down. 
Met  the  Lady  Moon,  who  charged  us  with  a  message  for  your  town : 

She  saves  you  a  drachm  a  month  for  torchlight,  and  yet  you  never  observe 
the  days  which  it  is  her  special  function  to  mark ;  but  you  are  wrangling  in 
law  courts  when  you  ought  to  be  keeping  sacred  Festivals ; 

And,  she  says,  the  gods  in  chorus  shower  reproaches  on  her  head, 
When  in  bitter  disappointment  they  go  supperless  to  bed. 

If  you  do  not  amend  there  will  be  terrible  consequences  —  as  happened 
lately  with  Hyperbolus  [another  personality]. 


8 


EPISODE  II 

The  Parabasis  condudea,  the  Scene  resumes.  Socrates  and  his  new  pupil 
appear,  the  former  swearing  by  Chaos,  Air,  and  Respiration  that  Streps,  is 
the  greatest  dolt  he  ever  taught. '  The  lesson  goes  on ;  at  first  as  to  some 
niceties  of  grammar  [not  capable  of  being  rendered  in  English],  by  which 
Sir,  learns  he  must  speak  of  'fowl'  and  'fowless,'  must  call  'trough' 
*troughess,'  which  on  trying  to  expand  into  a  principle,  he  finds  will  oblige 
him  to  speak  in  future  of  "Miss  Cleonymus"  {another personality^  Then 
he  is  forced  to  get  into  a  bed  [none  of  the  cleanliest]  io  force  his  brain,  and 
by  this  means  to  think  out  what  he  is  most  anxious  about  —  devices  against 
debts.  His  first  thought  is  to  hire  a  witch  and  conjure  down  the  moon, 
without  which  interest  could  not  be  calculated.  Next  he  brings  out  the 
idea  of  a  burning  glass,  to  be  used  in  court  to  destroy  the  documentary  evi- 
dence. This  pleases  Socrates:  but  his  next  suggestion,  to  escape  the 
appearing  in  court  at  all  by  simply  hanging  himself,  is  too  much  for  the 
Master,  who  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  Mrn.  He  is  in  great 
distress,  but  by  advice  of  the  Clouds  goes  off  to  find  his  son,  who  may 
prove  not  too  old  to  learn.  Observe  tlie  ambiguous  address  of  Chorus  to 
bocrates : 

Dost  thou  not  see  how  bounteous  we  our  favors  free 

Will  shower  on  you  ? 
Since  whatsoe'er  your  will  prepare  * 

This  dupe  will  do. 
But  now  that  you  have  dazzled  and  elated  so  your  man, 
Make  haste  and  seize  whate'er  you  please  as  quickly  as  you  can. 
For  cases  such  as  these,  my  friend,  are  very  prone  to  change  and  bend. 

Re-enter  Sir.,  dragging  his  unwilling  son,  who  scorns  his  father's  glorious 
account  of  the  new  wonders  he  has  learned,  and  is  not  impressed  with  '  trough- 
ess  '  or  King  Vortex.  Socrates  doubts  if  he  can  do  much  with  one  who  says 
*  suthpended,'  but  the  father  says  he  is  sharp  enough :  he  used  to  build  dear 
little  baby-houses  and  frame  frogs  out  of  peach-stones,  when  a  boy. 

The  question  now  becomes  whether  he  shall  learn  the  Just  or  Unjust 
Argument :  and  the  two  are  summoned  to  appear  and  debate,  that  the  boy 
may  judge  for  himself.     After  a  preliminary  exchange  of  abuse  : 

Unjust  Argument.  You  musty  old  dame  ! 
Just  Argument.  You  monster  in  shame  ! 

Unj.  Hey!  roses,  I  swear  !    Just.  You  lickspittle  there  ! 

Unj.  What,  lillies  from  you  !    Just.  You're  a  parricide,  too  ! 

Unj.  You  shower  gold  on  my  head.    Just.  But  it  used  to  be  lead. 

Unjust.  But  now  its  a  grace  and  a  glory  instead. 
Just.  You're  a  little  too  bold.     Unjust.  You're  a  great  deal  too  old,  &c. 

Just  Argument  plaints  the  simplicity  of  life  and  manner  when  he  was 
believed  m,  in  the  good  old  times,  when  young  people  were  modest,  and 
learned  the  precepts  which  taught 

The  heroes  of  old  to  be  hardy  and  bold,  and  the  men  who  at  Marathon 
fought. 

If  Pheidip.  will  listen  to  him,  he  shall  be  blooming,  athletic,  and  fair ;  and 
instead  of  wasting  his  strength  in  musty  law  courts,  he  shall  excel  in  the 
fnendly  athletic  rivalry  of  the  Academe  : 

All  fragrant  with  yew  and  leisure  time  too,  and  the  leaf  which  the  white 
poplars  fling. 


When  the  plane  whispers  love  to  the  elm  in  the  grove  in  the  beautiful 
season  of  Spring. 

The  Chorus  applaud,  but  turn  to  Unjust  Argument.,  who  manifests  great 
disgust  at  this  picture  and  proceeds  to  pull  it  to  pieces. — You  object  to 
warm  baths  as  enervating  :  was  Hercules  enervated,  and  are  not  the  baths 
of  Hercules  the  best  v/arm  baths  in  Athens  ?  &c.  What  is  the  good  e.  g.  of 
modesty?  If  caught,  plead  that  Zeus  himself  is  not  famous  for  modesty. — 
But,  urges  Just  Argument^  suppose  you  are  convicted  and  branded  as  a 
Rogue  ?  and  offers  to  stake  the  whole  dispute  on  this  argument. — This  diffi- 
culty is  met  and  the  victory  decided  by  the  favourite  appeal  to  personali- 
ties :  Where  do  your  great  statesmen  come  from  ? — The  class  of  branded 
Rogues  ? — Your  Orators  and  Poets  ?— Branded  Rogues  again  ! — If  you  still 
doubt,  look  at — the  Audience  !  and/«5/  Argument  givts  up  as  his  rival  runs 
through  name  after  name,  all  branded  as  Rogues. — Thus  Pheidip.  becomes 
the  pupil  of  Unjust  Argument:  the  Chorus  however  hinting  he  may  repent 
before  long. 

CHORAL  INTERACT 

The  blessings  the  Clouds  will  bestow  upon  Athens  if  they  gain  the  prize : 
all  countries  shall  wait  till  they  have  poured  the  rain  upon  Athenian  fields ; 
they  will  guard  her  from  drought  and  sling  hailstones  at  her  enemies. 

FINALE 

Strepsiades  returns  to  see  how  his  son  is  getting  on,  especially  as  *  Settling 
day '  [called  in  Greek  *  Old  and  New  day ']  is  near.  He  hears  with  delight  of 
his  son's  progress,  and  as  first-fruits  learns  from  him  that  a  day  cannot  be 
old  and  new  at  the  same  time,  any  more  than  a  woman  can  be  old  and 
young.  With  rapture  he  hurls  this  at  Pasias,  a  creditor  who  comes  with 
his  bill,  makes  general  fun  of  him,  and  finally  trying  him  with  the 
*  troughess '  question  declares  he  will  not  pay  at  all  a  man  so  ignorant. — A 
second  creditor  comes  and  he  tries  him  with  a  question  whether  the  rain 
falls  fresh  each  time,  or  the  new  rain  is  the  old  drawn  up  by  the  Sun :  when 
he  finds  he  cares  nothing  about  this,  he  refuses  to  pay  one  so  unenlightened 
in  the  Laws  of  Nature.  Moreover  how  can  Money  increase  by  Interest 
when  the  Sea  itself  grows  no  larger  for  all  the  Rivers  that  run  into  it?  — 
In  triumph  he  goes  in  with  his  son,  the  Chorus  prophesying  a  reaction  — 
which  appears  when  the  father  comes  rushing  out,  the  son  beating  him 
violently :  they  had  had  a  talk,  in  which  the  son  sneered  at  ^schylus,  and 
began  a  '  shameful  tale '  from  Euripides,  which  the  father  could  bear  no 
longer  and  struck  his  son  :  the  son  instead  of  submitting,  had  dared  to 
strike  his  own  father  !  The  son  proceeds  to  justify  himself,  answering  his 
father's  appeals  to  his  early  care  for  his  son  in  his  helpless  infancy  by  the 
argument  that  his  father  used  to  beat  him  as  a  child,  and  as  age  is  a 
second  childhood  it  is  only  fair  that  he  should  beat  his  father  now!  —  In 
horror  Strep,  turns  to  the  Clouds : 

O  Clouds !  O  Clouds  !  I  owe  all  this  to  you  ! 

Why  did  I  let  you  manage  my  affairs  ? 
Chor.   Nay,  nay,  old  man,  you  owe  it  to  yourself ; 

Why  did'st  thou  turn  to  wicked  practices  ? 
Str.       Ah  !  but  ye  should  have  asked  me  that  before, 

And  not  have  spurred  a  poor  old  fool  to  evil. 
Chor.   Such  is  our  plan.     We  find  a  man 
On  evil  thoughts  intent ; 

Guide  him  along  to  shame  and  wrong. 
Then  leave  him  to  repent, 


lO 


Strepsiades,  in  despair,  at  last  rushes  out  and  brings  in  a  crew  of  neighbours 
who  pull  down  Socrates'  house,  burn  it,  and  turn  the  Great  Master  and  his 
students  into  the  street,     Socrates  rushes  out  and  seeks  Strepsiades  : 

Soc.   Hallo  !  What  are  you  at  up  on  our  roof  ? 
Sir.  I  walk  on  air  and  contemplate  the  sun  ! 

The  rioters  pitilessly  turn  them  out  and  — 

spare  them  not  for  many  reasons, 
But  most  because  they  have  blasphemed  the  gods, 

and  the  Chorus  mark  the  conclusion  with  the  words 

I  think  we  may  say 
We  have  acted  our  part  pretty  middling  to-day. 


II 


THE   BIRDS 

Dramatis  Person^e. —  Talkover  [Peisthetserus]  and  his  companion 
Hopeful  [EuelpidesJ  —  King  Hoopoe  of  the  Birds,  and  Chorus  of 
Birds,  his  subjects,  Runnerbird  [Trochilus]  his  valet. —  Deities:  Prome- 
theus, Neptune  [or  Poseidon],  Triballus  [a  barbarian  deity].  Iris.— A 
Priest,  A  Poet,  Kinesias  a  dithyrambic  poet,  A  Soothsayer,  Meton  an 
Astronomer,  An  Anthenian  Commissioner,  A  Vendor  of  Decrees,  A 
(would-be)  Parricide,  An  Informer,  Messengers,  &c. 

The  Scene  represents  open  country ^  rocky ^  with  a  grove  in  the  centre.  Talk- 
over  and  Hopeful  are  discovered  wandering  about  as  if  they  had  lost  their 
wayy  one  holding  a  jackdaw ^  the  other  a  raven^  to  which  they  seem  to  be  look- 
ing for  directions. 

PROLOGUE 

The  conversation  between  Talkover  and  Hopeful  brings  out  that  they  are 
in  search  of  the  Hoopoe,  once  a  human  king,  Tereus,  but  transformed  [in 
one  of  Sophocles'  tragedies]  into  a  king  of  birds.  By  advice  of  the  poul- 
terer, Philocrates,  they  had  taken  these  two  birds  for  their  guides,  who  are 
now  betraying  them  by  giving  hopelessly  contradictor^'  directions. —  Sud- 
denly turning  to  the  spectators  Hopeful  begins  to  explain  the  plot:  how 
they  are  seeking  a  new  country — not  that  Athens  is  not  the  most  glorious 
city  in  the  world  (in  which  to  lose  a  fortune  over  law-suits),  but  they  prefer 
comfort  to  glory.  Talkover  perceives  that  the  birds  are  now  agreeing  to 
point  in  one  direction  :  accordingly  they  knock  at  the  bare  rock,  which 
opens,  and  Runnerbird  enquires  who  they  are.  Mutual  embarrassment, 
after  which  the  valet  consents  to  call  his  royal  master  from  his  siesta  after 
a  meal  of  myrtle-berries  and  ants.  The  Hoopoe  enters,  the  two  men  are 
terribly  alarmed  at  his  enormous  beak  and  crest :  he  seems  to  feel  this  as 
a  slight,  and  lays  the  blame  on  Sophocles  who  so  dramatised  him.  When 
he  has  heard  their  story  he  enquires  why  they  have  come  to  him  for 
information. 

Hopeful:  Because  you  were  a  man,  and  so  are  we ;  you  used  to  run  in 
debt,  and  so  do  we ;  you  chuckled  when  you  escaped  paying,  and 
so  do  we  !  •• 

Moreover  in  all  their  flying  about  the  birds  must  have  discovered  such  a 
city  of  ease,  if  there  be  one  :  a  city  where  there  will  be  no  strife,  save  when 
a  host  angrily  bids  you  come  earlier  to  a  feast,  or  a  father  reproaches  you 
for  not  courting  his  pretty  daughter.  The  conversation  is  running  on,  with 
the  usual  topical  hits  and  personalities,  when  Talkover  is  suddenly  struck 
with  a  profound  thought  —  what  the  race  of  birds  might  do  if  they  only 
realized  their  position !  At  the  risk  of  screwing  Hoopoe's  neck  off  he 
makes  him  look  up,  down,  all  round,  and  tells  him  he  may  be  the  practical 
ruler  of  all  he  sees.  For  the  birds  hold  a  strategic  position  that  commands 
the  universe  —  the  line  of  passage  between  earth  and  heaven.  H  they  found 
a  city  and  fortify  their  atmosphere  they  will  be  able  to  bring  both  gods  and 
men  to  their  own  terms.  From  men  they  can  hide  heaven  like  a  locust 
cloud,  while  if  the  gods  prove  stubborn,  they  can  starve  them  out  by  inter- 
cepting the  smoke  of  human  sacrifices  on  which  they  feed. —  Hoopoe  swears 
by  "  snares,  meshes,  and  nets  "  it  is  the  best  idea  he  ever  heard,  and 


12 


prepares  to  summon  his  subjects  to  hear  the  project  from  the  projector's 
own  lips.     [Basts  of  Plot.^ 

INVOCATION  OF  CHORUS 

Hoopoe  goes  back  into  the  grove,  from  which  he  is  heard  (in  lyrical  meas- 
ure) rousing  the  Nightingale  to  summon  the  birds  to  a  conference.  A  flute 
performance  follows  [by  an  Athenian  prima  donna  lately  returned  from  abroad) 
intended  for  the  Nightingale's  call  Hoopoe  follows  this  up  by  a  second 
Lyrical  Invocation  to  the  Birds  his  subjects. 

Hoopoe 

Epopopopopopopopopopopopopoi, 
Holloa  !  holloa !  what  ho  !  what  ho  1 
Hither  haste,  my  plume-partakers ; 
Come  many,  come  any 

That  pasture  on  the  farmer's  well-sown  acres, 
Tribes  countless  that  on  barley  feed, 
And  clans  that  gather  out  the  seed ; 
Come,  alert  upon  the  wing, 
Dulcet  music  uttering  : 
Ye  that  o'er  the  furrowed  sod 
Twitter  upon  every  clod. 
Making  all  the  air  rejoice 
With  your  soft  and  slender  voice  : 
Tio,  tio,  tio,  tio,  tio,  tio,  tio,  tio, 
Ye  that  feast  on  garden  fruits. 
Nestling  'midst  the  ivy  shoots  : 
Ye  that  all  the  mountains  throng, 
Olive-croppers,  arbute-loppers, 
Haste  and  fly  to  greet  my  song. 
Trioto,  trioto,  totobrix  ! 
Ye  that  o'er  the  marshy  flats 
Swallow  down  the  shrill-mouthed  gnats; 
Ye  that  haunt  the  deep-dew'd  ground, 
Marathon's  sweet  meads  around. 
Ouzel,  and  thou  of  the  speckled  wing, 
Hazelhen,  hazelhen,  speed  while  I  sing. 
Come  many,  come  any, 
With  the  halcyon  brood  that  sweep 
Surges  of  the  watery  deep,     ^ 
Come  and  list  to  novel  words. 
Which  to  hear,  from  far  and  near 
We  gather  all  the  tribes  of  neck-extending  birds. 
Here  is  arrived  a  sharp  old  man 
Of  revolutionary  mind. 
To  revolutionary  deeds  inclined  ; 
Come  all  and  listen  to  his  plan.* 

Strange  cries  of  birds  are  heard  in  the  distance,  and  there  follows  the 

PARODE  OR  CHORUS-ENTRY 

This  is  a  grand  pantomimic. tour-de-force.  The  twenty-four  members  of 
the  Chorus  enter  as  birds,  got  up  in  splendid  array,  and  on  a  colossal  scale. 
They  enter  singly,  or  in  groups,  giving  scope  to  the  human  onlookers  to 


♦  Frpm  Professor  Kennedy's  translatioq. 


13 


make  free  comments  (including  applicatioiis  to  the  spectators  in  the  theatre 
or  to  public  characters).  The  scene  is  in  accelerated  rhythm^  interrupted 
by  bits  of  lyric  excitement  on  the  part  of  the  Chorus,  who,  instead  of  falling 
in  with  their  monarch's  view,  cry  out  that  he  has  betrayed  them  to  their 
natural  enemies,  mankind.  A  Bght  seems  imminent,  and  the  Birds  form  in 
order  for  charging. 

Upon  them  !  at  them !  in  a  ring 

Encircle  them  with  bloody  force, 
Make  onslaught  with  embattled  wing  1 
For  these  two  men  must  die  of  course. 
And  glut  my  beak  with  prey. 
No  gloomy  glen  is  there,  nor  airy  cloud. 
Nor  hoary  sea  that  can  their  persons  shroud, 
And  let  them  get  away. 
Pluck  them ;  tear  them ;  bite  them,  scare  them : 

do  not  let  us  be  afraid. 
Where  is  he  who  should  command  us  ? 

let  him  lead  the  light  brigade.* 

Talkover  and  Hopeful  \iz.\e,  the  presence  of  mind  to  arm  themselves  with  a 
spit  for  spear,  and  vinegar-cruet  and  bowl  for  shields  :  but  before  the  hostile 
forces  meet  Hoopoe  manages  to  calm  down  his  comrades'  suspicions,  and 
they  gradually  assume  a  more  peaceful  attitude,  and  prepare  to  listen  to 
Talkover's  proposal.     (Thus  the  metre  at  the  conclusion  is  Blank  Verse.) 

EPISODE  I 

In  a  formal  oration  [long  anapasts)  Talkover  puts  his  project :  the  for- 
mality of  his  speech  being  constantly  relieved  by  running  comments  of  a 
farcical  nature  by  his  companion  Hopeful,  Talkover  begins  with  the  ancient 
dignity  of  the  birds.  He  quotes  Aesop's  fable  of  the  lark,  who  buried  its 
father  in  its  own  head  because  there  was  no  earth  to  bury  him  in,  as  evi- 
dence of  the  antiquity  of  the  race  of  birds :  their  authority  is  seen  in  the 
way  in  which  all  the  working -classes  obey  the  cock's  call  to  labour  in  the 
morning.  Then  he  dwells  upon  their  wrongs :  men  snare  and  trap  them, 
and  take  them  in  heaps ;  they  buy  and  sell  them,  and  feel  them  all  over ; 
they  not  only  roast  them,  but,  adding  insult  to  injur)%  pour  over  them 
scalding  sauce.  The  birds  are  easily  worked  up  to  a  burst  of  lyric  indigna- 
tion. Then  comes  the  orator's  remedy.  Let  them  build  a  city  of  the  birds, 
and  wall  up  the  air  all  round,  like  Babylon.  Then  send  heralds  to  the  gods 
and  dictate  terms.  Men  shall  hereafter  sacrifice  to  birds  at  the  same  time 
as  to  gods :  a  sacrifice  to  Venus  shall  be  accompanied  with  an  offering  of 
wheat  to  the  coot ;  or  if  a  ram  is  offered  to  Jove,  a  male  ant  must  be  pre- 
sented to  king  Wren.  If  the  gods  resist,  declare  a  Sacred  War,  and  block- 
ade them  when  they  wish  to  make  their  love-visits  to  earth.  If  men  resist, 
swallows  can  pick  up  all  their  seed,  crows  peck  out  the  eyes  of  cattle,  and 
locusts  eat  up  their  vines ;  on  the  other  hand,  if  they  are  obedient,  the  birds 
can  offer  them  good  *  auguries,'  pointing  out  treasures,  and  favorable  sea- 
sons for  sailing,  besides  granting  a  century  or  two  of  long  life  out  of  their 
own  endless  years.  Talkover  perorates  {in  short  anapcpsts)  on  the  economy 
of  such  divine  institutions  :  no  expensive  temples  to  be  reared,  but  they  will 
dwell  in  thickets  and  olive-trees,  and  for  offerings  accept  sprinklings  of 
wheat.  The  Chorus  accept  the  proposal  with  enthusiasm ;  and  {the  metre 
changing  to  blank  verse)  preparations  are  made  for  carrying  it  out.     But 

*  From  Mr.  Rudd's  translation. 


first  the  two  human  friends  of  the  birds  are  taken  inside  to  be  feasted  and 
furnished  with  wings;  while  the  nightingale  shall  fill  up  the  interval.— 7'>4^ 
flutist  appears  as  a  nightingale,  and  the  play  proceeds  to  its 

PARABASIS 
The  Lyric  Introduction  is  a  summons  to  the  flutist  to  perform. 

{^Kommation) 

O  my  ownie,  O  my  brownie, 

Bird  of  birds  the  dearest, 
Voice  that  mingling  with  my  lays 

Ever  was  the  clearest ; 
Playmate  of  my  early  days, 

Still  to  me  the  nearest. 
Nightingale,  thus  again 

Do  I  meet  thee,  do  I  greet  thee, 
Bringing  to  me  thy  sweet  strain  ? 

Skilfullcst  of  artists  thou 
To  soft  trillings  of  the  flute 
Vernal  melodies  to  suit, 

Our  homily  demands  thy  prelude  now.* 

T^^^nl  *^^^  •^"^'^  ^^^^  '*^^^^  follows  the  Parabasis  Proper  {in  long  anapasts) 
The  Chorus  m  this  case  retain  their  characterization,  and  their  theme  is  the 
supremacy  of  birds  over  men. 

{Parabasis  Proper) 

Ho !  ye  men,  dim-lived  by  nature,  closest  to  the  leaves  in  feature, 
feeble  beings,  clay-create,  shadowy  tribes  inanimate. 
Wingless  mortals,  in  a  day,  doleful,  dream-like,  swept  away ; 
Note  the  lessons  that  we  give,  we  the  immortals  form'd  to  live, 
We  the  ethereal,  the  unaged,  with  undying  plans  engaged. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  theory  of  a  reigning  philosopher,  which  evolved 
the  universe  out  of  wind  as  the  embryo  of  all  things,  they  substituted  *  egg ' 
for  embryo,  and  so  make  out  a  bird-origin  for  the  world. 

Chaos  was  and  Night  of  yore  in  the  time  all  times  before, 

And  black  Erebus  beside  Tartarus  extending  wide. 

Earth,  Air,  Heaven  were  yet  unknown,  in  huge  Erebus  alone 

First,  our  oldest  legend  says,  black-wing'd  Night  a  wind-egg  lays ; 

Which,  as  circling  seasons  move,  brings  to  birth  the  charmer  Love', 

Bright,  with  golden  wings  behind,  semblant  to  the  whirling  wind. 

In  the  vast  Tartarean  shade  him  the  dull  dark  Chaos  made 

Sire  of  us :  we  nestled  there  till  we  saw  the  light  of  air. 

Race  immortal  there  was  none  till  Love's  sorcery  was  begun  : 

But,  when  all  things  mixed  in  motion,  rose  the  sky,  the  earth,  the  ocean, 

And  the  blessed  gods  were  made,  everlasting,  undecay'd. 

Again  playing  upon  the  idea  of  *  augury,'  they  represent  birds  as  the  source 
of  all  material  comfort. 

Mortal  men  for  their  convenience 

owe  to  us  well-nigh  everything. 


♦  This  and  the  two  quotations  that  follow  it  are  from  Professor  Kennedy's  translation. 


15 


•       First  we  announce  to  them  the  Seasons, 

such  as  Autumn,  Winter  and  Spring. 
When  the  crane  departs  for  Lybia 

then  the  sowing  they  know  is  to  do ; 
Then  the  seaman,  hanging  his  rudder, 

settles  to  sleep  for  the  whole  night  through. 
Then  should  they  weave  a  coat  for  Orestes, 

Lest  in  the  cold  he  be  driven  to  steal. 
Afterwards  comes  the  kite,  another 

change  in  the  time  of  year  to  reveal ; 
Then  from  the  sheep  you  take  its  spring  fleece  ; 

after  that  comes  the  swallow  to  say, 
Sell  your  great  coat  and  provide  some 

dress  that  is  fit  for  midsummer  day. 
Ammon,  Delphi,  and  Dodona, 

Phoebus  Apollo  are  we  to  you. 
*  What  do  the  Birds  say '  is  the  question 

first  to  be  answered  whatever  you  do. 
Whether  it  be  to  buy  or  sell :  or 

earn  your  living  or  take  to  a  wife  ; 
Everything  is  '  a  bird  '  to  you  that 

betrays  the  shadow  of  coming  life ; 
A  phrase,  a  sneeze,  two  people  meeting, 

a  sound,  a  slave,  an  ass  is  a  *  bird.' 
So,  that  we  are  your  prophet  Apollo, 

is  too  clear  for  another  word. 
Take  us  as  Gods,  and  for  your  uses 
You  will  have  in  us  prophets,  Muses. 
\yinter,  summer,  wind  and  weather. 
To  your  liking  altogether. 
We  shall  not  retire  for  state 
Up  to  the  clouds  like  Jove  the  Great  : 
But  residing  handily  by  you 
We  shall  hear  and  not  deny  you 
All  that  you  may  wish  to  possess  ; 
Health  and  wealth  and  happiness. 
Length  of  days,  a  state  of  peace. 
Laughter  that  shall  never  cease. 
Constant  feasting,  dances,  youth. 
With  milk  of  birds  ;  so  that  in  truth 
You  and  your  heirs 
Shall  have  no  cares 
But  how  to  live 
On  the  very  abundance  of  wealth  we  give.* 

The  Strophe  follows,  reproducing  the  lofty  rhythms  of  old  Phrynichus,  amid 
an  accompaniment  of  bird-twittering  (which  the  reader  must  imagine). 

"fMuse,  that  in  the  deep  recesses 

Of  the  forest's  dreary  shade. 
Vocal  with  our  wild  addresses, 

Or  in  the  lonely  lowly  glade, 
Attending  near,  art  pleased  to  hear 


*  From  Mr.  Rudd's  translation, 
t    From  this  point  to  the  end  of  the  play  the  quotations  are  from  Frere's  translation. 


i6 


Our  humble  bill  tuneful  and  shrill, 
When  to  the  name  of  Omnipotent  Pan, 

Our  notes  we  raise,  or  sing  in  praise, 
Of  mighty  Cybele,  from  whom  we  began, 

Mother  of  Nature,  and  every  creature. 
Winged  or  unwinged,  of  birds  or  man  : 

Aid  and  attend,  and  chant  with  me 
The  music  of  Phrynichus,  open  and  plain. 

The  first  that  attempted  a  loftier  strain. 
Ever  busy  like  the  bee,  with  the  sweets  of  harmony. 

The  After-speech  puts,  in  pure  farcical  style,  conveniences  of  birds'  ways. 
People  whom  the  law  interferes  with  in  this  world  might  be  free  amid  the 
birds  : 

m 

Here  by  law  'tis  very  bad  if  a  youngster  beats  his  dad  : 
Where  with  us  'tis  usual  rather,  even  grand,  to  cuff  a  father, 
Strutting  up  and  crying,  *  Sir,  if  you'll  fight  me,  lift  your  spur.' 

The  Antistrophe  continues  the  Strophe: 

Thus  the  swans  in  chorus  follow,  , 

On  the  mighty  Thracian  stream, 

Hymning  their  eternal  theme. 
Praise  to  Bacchus  and  Apollo : 

The  welkin  rings  with  sounding  wings. 
With  songs  and  cries  and  melodies 
Up  to  the  thunderous  aether  ascending : 

Whilst  all  that  breathe  on  earth  beneath. 

The  beasts  of  the  wood  the  plain  and  the  flood, 
In  panic  amazement  are  crouching  and  bending. 

With  the  awful  qualm  of  a  sudden  calm 
Ocean  and  air  in  silence  blending, 
The  ridge  of  Olympus  is  sounding  on  high. 
Appalling  with  wonder  the  lords  of  the  sky. 

And  the  Muses  and  Graces 

Enthroned  in  their  places, 
Join  in  the  solemn  symphony. 

So  the  After-response  continues  the  After-speech.  A  spectator,  who  is  tired 
of  the  play,  might  if  he  had  wings,  just  fly  home,  get  a  bit  and  snack,  and 
come  back  fresh. 

Flying  oft  with  good  success  crowns  a  lover's  happiness. 

If  he  spies  his  rival  here  in  the  senatorial  tier. 

He  can  spread  his  wings  and  fly,  love-directed,  through  the  sky. 

Keep  his  happy  tryst,  and  then  fly  into  his  seat  again. 

EPISODE  II 

Talkover  and  Hopeful  reappear  in  bird  costume,  and  discuss  with  Hoopoe- 
(in  blank  verse)  the  founding  of  the  new  city.  First  its  name  is  solemnly 
settled  *  Cuckooborough-on-Cloud  '  [Nephelococcuguia].  Guardian  deities 
and  other  officers  are  selected.  Preparation  is  made  for  the  solemn  initia- 
tory sacrifices ;  but  these  are  perpetually  interrupted  by  arrivals  of  persons 
anxious  to  have  a  hand  in  or  to  oppose  the  new  project.  A  Priest  comes 
first  with  a  scraggy  goat :  he  is  allowed  to  officiate.  He  has  scarcely  begun 
when  a  Poet  follows,  reciting  fragments  of  lyrics  he  has  already  begun  to 
compose  on  the  new  city.  As  with  Pindar's,  his  sublime  lyrics  contain 
hints  that  gifts  would   not  be  unacceptable,  and  Talkover  manages  this 


17 


economically  by  making  the  Priest  strip  and  give  up  his  garments  to  the 
Poet.  Then  follow,  one  after  another  a  Prophet  with  a  bag  of  oracles,  an 
Astronomer  with  instruments  for  street-mensuration,  a  Commissioner  from 
the  mother  city  to  the  new  colony,  a  Hawker  of  Decrees  —  all  of  which  are 
made  to  furnish  'knock-about  business,'  being  first  'chaffed'  and  then 
thrashed  by  Talkover  off  the  stage.  But  finally  the  latter  has  to  give  up 
his  attempt  and  complete  the  sacrifice  indoors. 

SECOND  (PARTIAL)  PARABASIS 

There  is  first  a  Strophe,  putting  the  rights  of  birds  in  queer  metre,  sup- 
posed to  suggest  birds'  attempts  at  human  verse  : 

Chorus 

Henceforth  —  our  worth. 
Our  right — our  might, 
Shall  be  shown. 
Acknowledged,  known ; 
Mankind  shall  raise 
Prayers,  vows,  praise, 
To  the  birds  alone. 
Our  employ  is  to  destroy 
The  vermin  train. 
Ravaging  amain 
Your  fruits  and  grain  : 
We're  the  wardens 
Of  your  gardens. 
To  watch  and  chase 
The  wicked  race. 
And  cut  them  shorter, 
In  hasty  slaughter. 

In  the  After-speech  \hQ  Chorus  attack  {in  accelerated  rhythm)  their  mor- 
tal enemy,  the  fashionable  poulterer  Philocrates,  and  offer  a  reward  for  him 
alive  or  dead : 

He,  that  ortolans  and  quails  to  market  has  presumed  to  bring. 
And  the  sparrows,  six  a  penny,  tied  together  in  a  string, 
With  a  wicked  art  retaining  sundry  doves  in  his  employ. 
Fastened,  with  their  feet  in  fetters,  forced  to  serve  for  a  decoy. 


All  spectators  keeping  birds  in  cages  are  bidden  to  let  them  free.- 
Antistrophe  pictures  the  allurements  of  bird  life 

Blest  are  they. 

The  birds  alway. 

With  perfect  clothing. 

Fearing  nothing. 
Cold  or  sleet  or  summer  heat. 

As  it  chances. 

As  he  fancies. 
Each  his  own  vagary  follows. 
Dwelling  in  the  dells  and  hollows ; 
When  with  eager,  weary  strain 
The  shrilly  grasshoppers  complain. 
Parched  upon  the  sultry  plain, 
.Maddened  with  the  raging  heat. 
We  secure  a  cool  retreat, 


The 


i8 


In  the  shady  nooks  and  coves, 
Recesses  of  the  sacred  groves  ; 
Many  a  herb,  and  many  a  berry, 
Serves  to  feast,  and  make  us  merry. 

The  After-response  promises  bird  gifts,  and  threatens  bird  penalties,  to 
the  judges,  according  as  the  poet  shall  win  or  lose  the  prize. 

EPISODE  III 

Enter  Talkover  to  pronounce  the  sacrifices  propitious.  He  is  joined  by  a 
Messenger  who  reports  the  marvellous  rapidity  with  which  the  new  city  has 
been  built.  Thirty  thousand  cranes  of  Libya  swallowed  stones  for  the 
foundations,  comrails  chiselled  the  stones  with  their  bills,  river-fowl  carried 
the  water,  and  geese  used  their  feet  as  shovels  to  make  mortar  with,  ducks 
clambered  up  the  ladders  and  laid  bricks,  and  wood -peckers  were  the  car- 
penters. The  strength  of  the  fortifications  has  scarcely  been  described 
when  a  Second  Messenger  enters  with  news  that  the  blockade  has  already 
been  broken  by  Iris,  messenger  of  the  gods :  thirty  thousand  light-armed 
hawks  are  sent  in  pursuit  of  her.  After  a  brief  strophe  of  defiance  by  the 
Chorus,  Iris  is  seen  flying  across  the  scene,  in  a  grotesque  costume  that 
suggests  a  ship  in  full  sail :  Talkover  hails  her  and  bids  her  stop,  while  a 
guard  of  birds  enforce  his  command.  A  dialogue  follows,  contemptuous  on 
both  sides.  Iris  is  on  her  father  Jupiter's  business,  and  scouts  the  idea  of 
asking  passports  from  any  one.  Talkover  says  if  he  did  his  duty  he  would 
have  to  put  her  to  death. 

Iris.  But  I'm  immortal. 

Talk.  That  would  make  no  difference. 

Finally,  as  he  cannot  stop  her,  he  '  shoo's '  her  off  like  a  trespassing  bird, 
to  her  great  indignation. —  Then  enters  the  Herald  sent  to  mankind,  with 
news  of  their  complete  and  joyful  submission  :  birds  have  become  all  the 
rage,  he  says ;  and  Athenian  family  names  are  punned  upon  to  show  this. 
The  metre  breaks  into  lyrics,  as  Talkover  and  the  Chorus  prepare  bundles 
of  wings  for  the  mortals  who  will  presently  claim  the  rights  of  citzenship. — 
This  is  a  transition  to  the  next  division  of  the  long  Episode,  in  which 
successively,  a  would-be  Parricide,  Kinesias  a  dithyrambic  poet,  and  an 
Informer,  come  to  claim  wings  and  the  franchise :  to  keep  up  the  idea  of 
reversal  of  all  things  the  first  is  fairly  received  and  given  a  military  com- 
mand, while  the  other  two,  after  some  badgering,  are  horsewhipped  back 
again. 

CHORAL  ODE 

In  this  interlude  the  Chorus  begin  to  tell  of  the  unknown  marvels  which 
birds  in  their  flight  behold :  these  marvels  unexpectedly  turn  out  local 
allusions. 

Strophe 

We  have  flown,  and  we  have  run, 
Viewing  marvels,  many  a  one, 
In  every  land  beneath  the  sun. 
But  the  strangest  sight  to  see 
Was  a  huge  exotic  tree 
Growing  without  heart  or  pith, 
Weak  and  sappy  like  a  withe, 
But,  with  leaves  and  boughs  withal. 
Comely,  flourishing,  and  tall.  , 


19 


This  the  learned  all  ascribe 
To  the  sycophantic  tribe  ; 
But  the  natives  there,  like  us, 
Call  it  a  Cleonymus. 
In  the  spring's  delightful  hours. 
It  blossoms  with  rhetoric  flowers. 
I  saw  it  standing  in  the  field. 
With  leaves  in  figure  like  a  shield ; 
On  the  first  tempestuous  day, 
I  saw  it  cast  those  leaves  away. 

Antistrophe 

There  lies  a  region  out  of  sight. 
Far  within  the  realm  of  night, 
Far  from  torch  and  candle  light. 
There  in  feasts  of  meal  and  wine 
Men  and  demi-gods  may  join, 
There  they  banquet,  and  they  dine, 
Whilst  the  light  of  day  prevails. 
At  sunset,  their  assurance  fails  ; 
If  any  mortal  then  presumes, 
Orestes,  sallying  from  the  tombs, 
Like  a  fierce  heroic  sprite. 
Assaults  and  strips  the  lonely  wight. 

EPISODE  IV 

£nter  Prometheus,  disguised  with  mufilers  and  carrying  an  umbrella.  He 
appears  in  great  terror  lest  Zeus  should  see  him,  and  does  not  feel  comfortable 
till  he  has  put  up  his  umbrella  between  himself  and  heaven.  He  is  acting 
his  traditional  part  as  the  friend  of  mortals,  and  comes  to  give  them  secret 
information,  that  the  gods  are  dreadfully  distressed  by  the  blockade,  and, 
if  the  birds  hold  out,  must  yield  to  their  terms.  But  they  must  be  sure  to 
insist  upon  one  condition:  that  Jupiter  gives  up  Queenie  [Basileia],  the 
damsel  who  keeps  his  thunder-closet  and  looks  after  his  whole  govemuient: 
she  will  make  a  nice  wife  for  Talkover. 

STROPHE  (FOR  INTERLUDE) 

This  continues  the  effect  of  the  last  Choral  Ode. 

Chorus 

Beyond  the  navigable  seas. 

Among  the  fierce  Antipodes, 

There  lies  a  lake,  obscure  and  holy. 

Lazy,  deep,  melancholy. 

Solitary,  secret,  hidden. 

Where  baths  and  washing  are  forbidden. 

Socrates,  beside  the  brink, 
Summons  from  the  murky  sink 
Many  a  disembodied  ghost ; 
And  Pisander  reached  the  coast, 
To  raise  the  spirit,  that  he  lost. 
With  a  victim,  strange  and  new, 
A  gawky  camel,  which  he  slew. 
Like  Ulysses  —  whereupon, 


20 


The  grizzly  sprite  of  Chaerephon 
Flitted  round  him,  and  appeared 
With  his  eyebrows  and  his  beard, 
Like  a  strange  infernal  fowl, 
Half  a  vampire,  half  an  owl. 

EPISODE  V 

Enter  as  ambassadors  from  Heaven^  Neptune^  Hercules  and  the  Triballian 
Deity.  The  last  is  treated  as  a  sort  of  barbarian  ally  of  the  gods,  of  whom 
the  other  two  are  ashamed.  He  speaks  unintelligibly,  and  will  not  keep  his 
robes  straight.  Neptune  is  of  course  of  the  highest  divine  family,  while 
Hercules  is  one  who  becomes  ambassador  for  the  sake  of  the  feasting  and 
fetes.  Talkover  understands  their  respective  positions,  and  affects  not  to 
notice  their  approach,  while  he  is  giving  orders  about  cooking,  the  steam  of 
which  is  making  Hercules  anxious  for  a  speedy  settlement.  Under  such 
circumstances  they  speedily  agree  to  terms  and  form  an  alliance  :  the  bar- 
barian assenting  in  gibberish  which  is  interpreted  as  assent.  At  the  last 
moment  Talkover  recollects  the  condition  about  Queenie:  at  the  mention  of 
which  Neptune  indignantly  breaks  off  the  negotiation.  Talkover  calmly 
goes  on  with  his  cooking,  and  hungry  Hercules  protests.  But  Neptune 
rallies  him  on  risking  his  own  reversion  in  Jupiter's  sovereignty  for  the 
sake  of  a  meal.  Talkover  hears  this  and  taking  Hercules  aside,  warns  him 
that  his  uncle  is  making  a  tool  of  him ;  that  he  will  get  nothing  by  inheri- 
tance from  Jupiter  since  he  is  illegitimate  —  the  *  son  of  a  foreign  woman.' 
He  appeals  to  him  as  to  whether  his  father  has  ever  shown  him  to  the 
wardmen,  or  taken  the  other  legal  steps  to  make  him  his  heir.  Hercules 
confesses  that  nothing  of  the  kind  has  been  done,  and  indignantly  makes 
common  cause  with  the  birds.  Thus  two  of  the  embassy  are  disagreed : 
the  casting-vote  lies  with  the  barbarian,  who  is  appealed  to  for  his  opinion. 

Triballian.  Me  tell  you;  pretty  girl,  grand  beautiful  queen. 

Give  him  to  birds. 
Here.  Aye,  give  her  up,  you  mean. 
Nep.  Mean  !  He  knows  nothing  about  it.     He  means  nothing 

But  chattering  like  a  magpie. 
Talk.  Well,  "  the  magpies." 

He  means,  the  magpies  or  the  birds  in  general. 

Neptune  is  forced  to  be  content  with  this :  the  treaty  is  made  and  the  am- 
bassadors go  in  to  the  feast. 

ANTISTROPHE*  (FOR  INTERLUDE) 

Along  the  Sycophantic  shore. 
And  where  the  savage  tribes  adore 

The  waters  of  the  Clepsydra,"!" 
There  dwells  a  nation,  stem  and  strong. 
Armed  with  an  enormous  tongue. 

Wherewith  they  smite  and  slay : 

With  their  tongues,  they  reap  and  sow, 
And  gather  all  the  fruits  that  grow. 

The  vintage  and  the  grain  ; 
Gorgias  is  their  chief  of  pride. 


*  In  the  original  the  arrangement  of  lines  is  antistrophic. 
t  The  water -clock  used  in  Athenian  law-courts. 


21 


And  many  more  there  be  beside, 
Of  mickle  might  and  main. 

Good  they  never  teach,  nor  show 
But  how  to  work  men  harm  and  woe. 

Unrighteousness  and  wrong ; 
And  hence  the  custom  doth  arise, 
When  beasts  are  slain  in  sacrifice, 

We  sever  out  the  tongue. 

EXODUS 

A  Messenger  announces  the  approach  of  Queenie:  she  is  seen  descending 
from  heaven,  amidst  gorgeous  spectacular  effects  :  the  rest  of  the  play  con- 
sists of  the  wedding  procession^  and  hymeneal  lyrics. 


23 


LYSISTRATA 

Note. —  This  brilliant  play  is  another  manifesto  of  the  peace  party. 
It  is  from  its  coarseness  unreadable  in  a  literal  translation,  but  has 
been  made  presentable  in  the  beautiful  version  of  Rogers,  from  which 
the  quotations  that  follow  are  taken.  The  play  is  technically  of  great 
importance,  its  choral  effects  being  unique. 

Dramatis  Person^e. —  Lysistrata  and  various  other  women  represent- 
ing all  the  principal  states  of  Greece  —  Athenian  Magistrate  and  his  officers, 
Various  Athenians,  Lacedaemonian  Herald  and  Ambassadors  —  Chorus  of 
Athenian  Women  —  Chorus  of  Athenian  Men. 

Scene:  In  front  of  the  gates  of  the  Acropolis  at  Athens 

PROLOGUE 

Lysistrata  is,  after  an  interval,  joined  by  women  she  has  secretly  sum- 
moned from  all  cities  of  Greece  to  hear  a  grand  scheme  by  which  they, 
women  as  they  are,  can  put  an  end  to  this  horrid  war,  and  enjoy  family  life 
again.  Amid  much  discussion  and  excitement  she  propounds  her  idea, 
which  is  that  all  the  women  of  Greece  shall  strike,  and  have  nothing  to  do 
with  their  husbands  or  lovers  till  these  promise  to  bring  about  peace. 

For  if  we  women  will  but  sit  at  home, 

Powder'd  and  trimmed,  clad  in  our  daintiest  lawn, 

Employing  all  our  charms,  and  all  our  arts 

To  win  men's  love,  and  when  we've  won  it,  then 

Repel  them,  firmly,  till  they  end  the  war. 

We'll  soon  get  Peace  again,  be  sure  of  that. 

[  Thus  basis  of  plot  opened.^  The  women  agree,  not  without  considerable 
reluctance  and  misgiving : 

Eh,  but  suppose  they  leave  us  altogether ! 

They  bind  themselves  by  an  oath  with  the  usual  formalities  of  swearing 
alliance,  except  that,  as  a  shield  is  part  of  the  ritual,  they  prefer  to  swear 
this  oath  of  peace  over  a  wine-bottle,  of  which  they  drink  with  great  devo- 
tion. A  cry  of  women's  voices  within  the  Acropolis  gives  evidence  that  part 
of  Lysistrata's  conspiracy  is  successful,  and  that  the  band  of  elderly  women 
to  whom  she  has  committed  the  task  have,  under  pretence  of  a  women's 
sacrifice,  seized  the  citadel.  They  all  separate  to  carry  out  their  respective 
parts  in  the  plot. 

PARODE   OR  CHORUS-ENTRY 

Enter  the  orchestra^  on  the  left,  to  a  rhythm  of  long  iambics^  antiphonal 
in  parts,  the  Chorus  of  Men,  carrying  logs  of  wood  and  pans  of  smoking  char- 
coal. This  entrance-ode  tells  of  their  purpose,  to  burn  the  conspirators  out 
of  the  citadel ;  and  of  their  indignation  at  the  task,  toiling  up  the  steep  hill 
at  their  age,  with  heavy  burdens,  all  on  account  of  these  shameless  women. 

But  over  this  snubby  protruding  steep 
Ere  we  reach  our  goal  at  the  Castle  keep. 


23 


We've  still,  with  our  burdensome  load,  to  creep. 
And  how  to  manage  that  blunt  incline 
Without  a  donkey,  I  can't  divine. 
Dear,  how  these  two  great  fire -logs  make  my  wearied  shoulders  toil  and  ache. 
But  still  right  onwards  we  needs  must  go, 
And  still  the  cinders  we  needs  must  blow, 
Else,  we'll  find  the  fire  extinguish'd,  ere  we  reach  our  journey's  end. 

Puff!  Puff!  Puff! 
O  the  smoke  !  the  smoke  ! 

At  the  end  of  their  song  they  spread  the  logs  and  prepare  to  fire  them. 
Just  then  enter  the  orchestra  on  the  right  a  Chorus  of  Wo7nen  bearing 
pitchers  of  water.  They  are  hastening  to  the  defence  of  citadel,  and 
fear  they  may  be  too  late. 

Yea,  for  hither,  they  state, 

Dotards  are  dragging  to  burn  us, 

Logs  of  enormous  weight. 

Fit  for  a  bath-room  furnace. 

Vowing  to  roast  and  to  slay 
Sternly  the  reprobate  women.     O  Lady  Goddess,  I  pray. 
Ne'er  may  I  see  them  in  flames !  I  hope  to  behold  them  with  gladness, 
Hellas  and  Athens  redeeming  from  battle  and  murder  and  madness. 

EPISODE   I 

Suddenly  the  two  Choruses  face  one  another,  and  exchange  of  defiance 
begins  (still  in  long  iambics).  From  hard  words  the  men  begin  to  threaten 
blows,  the  women  dare  them  to  carry  out  their  threats.  A  man  makes  an 
attempt,  which  is  the  signal  for  volleys  of  water  out  of  the  buckets,  with 
which  the  Chorus  of  Men  are  drenched  to  the  skins,  and  their  charcoal  pans 
extinguished.  At  the  height  of  the  tumult  enter  a  Magistrate  and  Officers  : 
the  metre  changing  to  blank  verse.  After  in  a  lordly  way  dealing  out  censure 
to  both  parties  he  proceeds  to  assert  the  majesty  of  the  law,  when  Lysis- 
trata enters  from  the  citadel  and  confronts  him.  He  orders  an  officer  to 
arrest  her.  But  another  woman  comes  out  to  tackle  the  officer,  and  when 
she  is  ordered  into  custody  yet  another  is  at  hand  to  confront  the  second 
officer :  and  so  on,  till  a  whole  crowd  of  women  have  poured  forth  from  the 
gates,  and  a  general  scrimmage  with  the  guard  takes  place,  Lysistrata 
cheering  on  her  companions  : 

Forth  to  the  fray,  dear  sisters,  bold  allies ! 

O  egg-and-seed-and-pot-herb-market-girls, 

O  garlic-selling-barmaid-baking-girls, 

Charge  to  the  rescue,  smack  and  whack,  and  thwack  them. 

The  women  so  far  hold  their  own  that  the  two  parties  pause,  and  have  a 
parley  on  more  equal  terms  {in  anapcests,  7oilh  occasional  antiphonal  pass- 
ages by  the  Chorus).  In  a  long  and  spirited  dialogue,  Lysistrata  points  out 
that  the  old  theory  has  been  that  war  is  man's  business,  and  if  women  offer 
a  word  of  advice  they  are  told  to  hold  their  tongues  and  mind  their  spin- 
ning. But  now  all  that  is  to  be  changed. — The  testy  Magistrate  at  this 
point  waxes  so  indignant  in  his  interruptions  that  some  of  the  girls  dance 
round  him  (the  conversation  going  on  just  the  same),  and,  before  he  knows 
what  is  being  done,  have  thrown  their  wimples  and  wraps  over  him  and  put 
a  spindle  into  his  hand,  and  made  him  an  image  of  a  spinning  woman,  to 
enforce  Lysistrata's 


24 


War  shall  be  Women's  business  now ! 

In  further  dialogue  she  urges  how  much  better  women  with  their  tact  will 
conduct  it. 

Just  as  a  woman,  with  nimble  dexterity,  thus  with  her  hands  disen- 
tangles a  skein. 

Hither  and  thither  her  spindles  unravel  it,  drawing  it  out  and  pulling 
it  plain ; 

So  would  this  weary  Hellenic  entanglement  soon  be  resolved  by  our 
womanly  care. 

So  would  our  embassies  neatly  unravel  it,  drawing  it  here  and  pulling 
it  there. 

Lysistrata  proceeds  to  put  the  women's  case  with  great  skill  :  but  the  Magis- 
trate becomes  more  impatient  than  ever,  until  his  girl  tormenters  dance 
round  him  once  more,  and  throw  over  him  this  time  a  shroud,  and  drive 
him  away,  telling  him  he  is  keeping  Charon  waiting.  The  officers  are 
similarly  driven  off  with  buckets  of  water,  and  the  stage  is  vacant. 

DOUBLE  CHORUS 

The  Chorus  of  Men  2inA  Chorus  of  iVomen  stand  facing  one  another  in 
the  orchestra,  and  exchanging  fierce  defiance  ;  strophes  are  answered  by 
antistrophesy  and  each  ends  with  a  blow,  or  missile,  by  which  words  have 
been  unexpectedly  translated  into  action.  For  example,  the  first  strophe  of 
the  men  ends : 

And  I'll  dress  my  sword  in  myrtle,  and  with  firm  and  dauntless  hand. 
Here   beside   Aristogeiton  {creeping  up  to  a  statue  in  the  orchestra) 

resolutely  take  ray  stand. 
Marketing  in  arms  beside  him.     This  the  time  and  this  the  place 
When  my  patriot  arm  must  deal  a  —  Blow  upon  that  woman's  face  ! 

\One  of  the  chorus  has  darted  out  and  suddenly  struck 
one  of  the  women. 

There  is  a  similar  ending  to  the  antistrophe  of  the  women  : 

Murmuring  are  ye  ?     Let  me  hear  you,  only  let  me  hear  you  speak, 
And  from  this  unpolished  slipper  comes  a  —  slap  upon  your  cheek  ! 

\One  of  the  women  shies  her  slipper  and  hits  the  leader 
of  the  men's  chorus. 

So  the  second  strophe  of  the  men  ends  with  the  evolutions  of  the  dance 
bringing  them  close  up  to  the  women,  as  the  ode  describes  Amazons,  and 
several  of  the  men  chorus  unexpectedly  seize  several  of  the  women  chorus 
by  the  neck  and  give  them  a  good  shaking  before  they  can  get  free.  But 
in  the  antistrophe  the  women  evolute  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  men,  and, 
while  the  latter  are  watching  against  a  repetition  of  their  own  manoeuvre, 
the  leader  of  the  women  suddenly  seizes  the  foot  of  the  leader  of  the  men, 
and  upsets  him  against  his  unthinking  companions,  till  the  whole  chorus 
are  floundering  on  the  floor  together. 

And  you'll  never  stop  from  making  these  absurd  decrees  I  know. 
Till  I  catch  your  foot  and  toss  you  —  Zeus-ha'-mercy,  there  you  go ! 

EPISODE  II 

There  is,  however,  inconstancy  of  purpose  in  the  band  of  conspirators. 
This  episode  is  a  picture  of  Lysistrata's  difficulties  to  keep  her  flock  from 
escaping  and  secretly  going  home.     Several  are  caught  and  make  various 


25 


absurd  excuses.  At  last  Lysistrata  confirms  their  spirits  with  a  mysterious 
oracle.  [The  Women's  Chorus  have  joined  in  this  conversation :  the  Chorus 
of  Men  have  been  ignored.] 

DOUBLE  CHORUS 

The  two  Choruses  have  not  been  facing  one  another  so  long  without  a 
mutual  attraction  making  itself  felt.  Thus  though  they  still  exchange 
defiance,  there  are  suggestions  of  relenting,  such  as  an  offer  of  a  kiss  made 
in  a  tone  of  threatening,  and  a  threat  of  a  blow  by  a  speaker  who  shows  she 
is  not  insensible  to  the  admiration  of  the  other  sex. 

EPISODE  III 

The  husband  of  one  of  the  women  conspirators  arrives,  beseeching  that  he 
may  have  an  interview  with  his  wife,  without  whose  companionship  he  can- 
not live.  A  farcical  scene  ensues,  in  which  the  wife  carries  out  her  part  of 
tantalising  her  uxorious  husband  ;  perpetually  coming  to  him  and  running 
back  for  something  she  has  forgotten.  She  of  course  impresses  upon  him 
that  she  can  only  see  him  on  condition  that  he  enters  into  the  league  for 
peace ;  to  which  he  vehemently  assents.  When  at  last  she  has  actually 
come  out,  and  he  is  throwing  his  arms  round  her,  she  again  asks  him  about 
voting  for  peace.  "  I'll  think  about  it,"  he  says,  believing  he  is  now  secure 
of  her.  But  she  disentangles  herself  from  his  grasp^  and  runs  back,  leaving 
him  to  exchange  lyric  lamentations  with  the  Chorus  of  Men.  [The  Chorus 
of  Women  have  been  ignored  in  this  scene.]  ^ 

A  Herald  from  Lacedaemonia  meets  the  Magistrate,  and  informs  him  that 
Sparta  has  been  similarly  treated  by  its  women,  and  proposes  a  conference 
for  terms  of  peace.  [In  this  purely  mechanical  scene  neither  Chorus  has 
taken  any  part.] 

DOUBLE  CHORUS 

The  two  Choruses  continue  to  exchange  (in  accelerated  rhythm)  defiances, 

which  show  in  each  line  signs  of  softening,  till  at  last  the  men  give  way, 
with  the  reflection  : 

That  was  quite  a  true  opinion  which  a  wise  man  gave  about  you. 
We  can't  live  with  such  tormentors,  no,  by  Zeus,  nor  yet  without  you  ! 

They  make  peace  :  and  (a  most  rare  effect  in  Greek  art)  form  a 

JOINT  CHORUS  OF  MEN  AND  WOMEN 

The  words  of  the  Joint  Ode  express  abandonment  to  general  rejoicings. 
In  particular  they  exhibit  a  kind  of  wit  more  popular  in  ancient  than  in 
modern  literature  —  the  reverse-surprise.  Thus:  all  who  want  money  are 
invited,  on  this  day  of  joy,  to  come  with  purses,  large  and  many  of  them, 
and  borrow  freely  all  they  want,  only  promising  that  when  the  peace  comes 
they  will  —  not  repay.  Again  :  a  feast  is  described  as  preparing,  with  various 
dainties  being  got  ready,  to  which  all  are  freely  invited. 

Come  along,  like  men  of  mettle ; 
■  Come,  as  though  'twere  all  for  you  : 
Come  —  you'll  find  my  only  entrance 
Locked  and  bolted  too. 

EPISODE  IV 

Ambassadors  arrive  from  Laconia  (talking,  of  course,  Doric  Greek)  :  they 
are  met  by  representatives  of  Athens,  and,  in  an  elaborate  scene,  Lysistrata, 


26 


assisted  by  her  beautiful  maid  Reconciliation ^  heals  their  differences,  and 
brings  them  to  agreement.     Exeunt  into  the  Acropolis  to  feast. 

JOINT  CHORUS 
The  preceding  Joint  Chorus  is  continued,  with  more  reverse  surprises. 

CHORAL  EXODUS 

The  Athenian  banquetters  come  out  of  the  Acropolis  having  great  diffi- 
culty* in  making  the  Chorus  hear  their  knocks,  the  Men  and  Women  being 
so  taken  up  with  one  another  that  they  neglect  their  office  of  keeping  the 
gates.  These  Athenians  describe,  as  they  come  out,  the  delights  of  the 
banquet,  and  how  their  former  enemies  the  Lacedaemonians  shone  as  feast 
companions.  They  are  now  carrying  torches  to  escort  their  visitors.  [The 
point  of  this  appears  to  be  to  give  the  Athenians  something  to  do  in  the 
scene,  and  so  leave  the  Lacedaemonians  to  pair  with  the  women  inside  the 
Acropolis.] 

Amid  this  torchlight  the  Lacedaemonians  pour  out  of  the  Acropolis  and 
extemporise  a  Laconian  Choral  Ode  on  the  stage,  with  full  Doric  ritual  and 
language.  Then  Lysistrata  bids  them  take  as  partners  the  Garrison  of 
Women  who  now  appear  for  the  first  time  from  the  Acropolis :  these  descend 
into  the  orchestra,  and  face  the  Chorus  already  there.  Thus  was  reached 
the  unprecedented  climax  of  a 
m 

QUADRUPLE,  OR   DOUBLE   JOINT  CHORUS 

of  (i)  Athenian  Men  and  Women  and  (2)  Lacedaemonian  Men  with  their 
women  partners.  Each  performs  an  ode,  in  the  manner  of  the  two  main 
rituals  of  Greece,  Ionic  and  Doric.  The  Athenian  is  the  dithyramb  of  wild 
self-abandonment. 

Now  for  the  Chorus,  the  Graces,  the  minstrelsy, 

Call  upon  Artemis,  queen  of  the  glade ; 

Call  on  her  brother,  the  lord  of  festivity. 

Holy  and  gentle  one,  mighty  to  aid. 

Call  upon  Bacchus,  afire  with  his  Maenades ; 

Call  upon  Zeus,  in  the  lightning  array'd ; 

Cal'  on  his  queen,  ever  blessed,  adorable  ; 

Call  on  the  holy  infallible  Witnesses, 

Call  them  to  witness  the  peace  and  the  harmony, 

This  which  divine  Aphrodite  has  made. 

Allala!  Lallala!  Lallala  !  Lallala  ! 

Whoop  for  victory,  Lallalalae  I 

Evoi,  Evoi,  Lallala,  Lallala ! 

Evae,  Evae,  Lallalalae. 

The  Lacedaemonian  ode  maintains  the  measured  self-restraint  of  the 
Doric  mode.  [The  translator  represents  the  Doric  dialect  by  Scotch.]  The 
substance  is  the  same  —  the  choral  worship  of  the  gods. 

•  Sae  we'se  join  our  blithesome  voices, 

Praisin*  Sparta,  loud  an'  lang, 
Sparta  wha  of  auld  rejoices 

In  the  Choral  dance  an'  sang. 
O  to  watch  her  bonnie  dochters 

*  This  seems  the  most  probable  account  of  the  scene ;  but  the  arrangement  of  the  speakers 
in  the  original  is  rery  obscure.    I  have  followed  Bergk's  text. 


27 


Sport  alang  Eurota's  waters ! 
Winsome  feet  for  ever  plyin*. 

Fleet  as  fillies,  wild  an'  gay. 
Winsome  tresses,  tossin',  flyin'. 
As  o'  Bacchanals  at  play. 
With  such  contrasted  choral  effects,  prolonged  amid  the  torchlight  ad  libitiniy 
the  play  ends. 


28 


PLUTUS  * 

Persons  Represented.— Goodman  [Chremylus] :  his  wife,  Little 
Carian  his  slave,  Publicpest  his  friend  — Chorus  of  Country  People, 
his  neighbours  — Plutus  God  of  Wealth  — Poverty— Mercury  —A  Just 
Man,  An  Informer,  An  Old  Woman,  A  Young  Man,  A  Priest  of  Jupiter. 

The  Scene  represents  the  farm  house  of  Goodman  in  the  centre;  on  the 
distant  side,  the  road  to  Delphi,  on  the  other  side  the  -way  to  the  neighbour- 
ing town, 

PROLOGUE 

Enter  from  the  Delphian  road  Goodman  and  Little  Carian,  following  a 
blind  old  man.  The  conversation  between  master  and  slave  brings  out  that 
the  master  has  been  in  pecuniary  trouble,  and  gone  to  the  oracle  to  enquire 
whether  it  would  be  well  to  bring  up  his  son  to  the  practice  of  the  new 
fashion  of  cheating;  the  response  bade  him  follow  the  first  person  he 
should  meet  on  leaving  the  temple,  and  this  proved  to  be  the  blind  old  man 
m  front.—  After  some  time  they  go  up  to  him  and  force  him  to  declare  who 
he  is:  he  admits  himself  to  be  the  god  Plutus  in  disguise.— Sensation. 
They  enquire  as  to  his  squalid  appearance  :  that  is  because  he  is  just  come 
from  the  house  of  the  miser  Patrocles,  who  has  never  washed  himself  since 
he  was  bom.— His  blindness?  Jupiter  blinded  him,  lest  he  should  confine 
his  favours  to  the  good  alone.— They  offer  to  restore  his  sight  if  he  will 
consent  to  remain  with  them  ;  and  they  can  assure  him  they  are  persons  of 
excellent  morals.— But  Plutus  trembles  at  the  thought  of  Jupiter's  anger. 
They  rally  him  on  his  nervousness ;  "  wealth  is  the  timidest  of  all  things." 
Does  he  not  understand  that  all  Jupiter's  power  is  owing  to  himself  ? 


Chrem. 


Car, 

Chrem. 

Car. 

Chrem. 

Car. 

Chrem. 

Car. 

Plut. 

Car. 

Chrem. 

Car. 

Chrem. 

Car. 

Chrem. 

Car. 

Plut. 

Chrem. 


For  you  are  carried  on  all  arts  that  one  can  mention ; 
You  set  all  men  to  work  and  stimulate  invention. 
For  you  a  man  will  sit  the  whole  day  cutting  leather. 
One  forges  brass,  another  hammers  boards  together. 
In  fashioning  of  gold  one  fellow  is  expert. 
One  robs  his  neighbour's  house,  another  steals  his  shirt. 
One  is  a  fuller. 

And  another  washes  fells. 
This  one  tans  hides  for  you. 

And  that  one  onions  sells. 
And  all  this  is  for  me  ?— to  think  I  did  not  know  it ! 
If  great  men  have  long  hair  —  'tis  he  who  lets  them  grow  it. 
And  does  not  he  supply  the  council  hall  with  votes  ? 
Of  course  he  does,  and  find  the  crews  that  man  our  boats. 
And  does  he  not  at  Corinth  keep  the  foreign  troops  ? 
And  is  it  not  through  him  that  Pamphilus  still  droops  ? 
To  him  the  public  owe  Philepsius'  descriptions. 

And  are  indebted  for  alliance  with  Egyptians 

And  can  I  do  so  much,  I,  that  am  only  one  ? 
The  story  of  your  power  is  barely  yet  begun  : 
Your  power  is  infinite  :  a  man  may  have  too  much 
Of  everything  besides  that's  reckoned  pleasant ;  such 
As  love. 


29 


Car.  Bread. 

Chrem.  Music. 

Car.  Sweetmeats. 

Chrem.  Honour. 

Car.  Toasted  cheese. 

Chrem.    Prize-winning. 

Car.  Figs. 

Chrem.  Ambition. 

Car.  Dough-nuts. 

Chrem,  Office. 

Car.  Peas. 

Chrem.    But  man  was  never  known  to  have  too  much  of  you  ! 

Give  him  a  round  three  thousand  down, —  what  will  he  do  ? 

W^ish  that  it  was  but  four  !     Well,  give  him  that, —  and  then  ? 

Forsooth  he'd  rather  die  than  live  with  less  than  tei ! 
Plutus  feels  reassurred  and  consents  to  dwell  with  them.     Goodman  takes 
him  into  his  house,  sending  the  slave  to  summon  his  neighbours  to  rejoice 
with  him. 

CHORUS-ENTRY 

Concerto  {in  long  iambics).  Little  Carian  jokes  the  Chorus  on  their 
sluggish  movements  of  old  age,  while  they,  not  knowing  any  cause  yet  for 
rejoicing,  cry  out  at  his  impudence.  • 

Car.        Men  who  have  eaten  many  a  time 

leek  porridge  with  my  master, 
Good  neighbours  and  good  workmen  too, 

pray  move  a  little  faster ; 
Indeed  you  must  knock  up  the  dust, 

nor  grudge  a  little  labour. 
So  pray  be  quick,  'tis  just  the  nick 

to  serve  a  worthy  neighbour. 
Chorus    You  blockhead,  don't  you  see  that  we 

make  all  the  haste  we  can  ? 
What  more  can  be  expected  from 

an  old  and  broken  man  ? 
You  think  it  fun  to  make  me  run 

without  the  information 
Why  Chremylus  has  sent  for  us, 

and  what  his  expectation  ? 

When  the  slave  had  kept  up  the  quarrel  long  enough  he  lets  out  the  secret, 
which  makes  a  great  difference  to  the  briskness  of  the  Chorus's  movements. 

Chorus     Shall  we  be  rich  ! 
Car.  Of  course  you  will ; 

dismiss  all  idle  fears; 
You'll  be  as  rich  as  Midases, 

unless  you  lack  the  ears. 
Chorus    If  that  is  true  —  Ri-too-ral-loo  ! 

Away  with  melancholy : 
Eh  !  dash  my  wig  !  I'll  dance  a  jig  : 
I  never  felt  so  jolly ! 

Thus  arrived  at  the  farm-door  they  proceed  to 


*  The  verse  quotations  are  from  Mr.  Rudd's  translation. 


30 


A  DANCE,  leading  to  SCENE  I 

Goodman  greets  the  Chorus.  He  has  scarcely  begun  to  talk  when  his 
friend  Publicpest  hurries  in,  showing  how  quickly  the  news  has  travelled 
"round  the  barbers'  shops."  But  Publicpest  will  not  for  a  moment  enter- 
tain the  idea  that  his  friend  has  come  honestly  by  the  rumoured  accession  of 
wealth. 

Pub.      Have  you  really  become  as  rich  as  they  say? 

Good.     Well,  I  hope  to  be,  if  Heaven  please ;  —  there  are  risks  — 

Pub.       Heaven  please?     Risks?    This  looks  bad.     Suddenly  rich,  and 

afraid,  is  suggestive  of  a  man  who  has  done  something  not  quite 

right 
Good.     How,  not  quite  right  ? 
Pub.      If,  for  example,  you  should  have  stolen  some  gold  or  silver  from 

the  oracle,  no  doubt  intending  to  repent  ? 
Good.     Apollo,  averter  of  evil,  not  I,  indeed! 
Pub.       Don't  talk  nonsense,  my  good  Sir;  I'm  certain  of  it. 
Good.     You  need  not  think  anything  of  the  kind. 
Pub.      What  a  thing  it  is  that  there  is  no  good  in  anybody;  all  are  slaves 

of  gain ! 
Good.     By  Ceres,  you've  lost  your  senses. 
Pub.       {aside)     What  a  fall  from  his  former  good  name ! 
Good.     I  say  you  are  mad,  man ! 
Pub.     '{aside)     His  very  glance  has  a  strange  wavering,  that  tells  of  a 

man  that  has  made  a  villain  of  himself. 
Good.     I  understand  your  croaking.     You  want  to  go  shares. 
Pub.       Shares  in  what  ? 

Good.     Just  so  :  but  it  isn't  that,  it's  something  else. 
Pub.       You  mean  you  did  not  steal  it,  you  —  carried  it  off  ? 
Good.     You  are  an  idiot. 

Pub.       You  mean  to  say  you  have  not  even  committed  fraud  ? 
Good.     Certainly  not ! 

Pub.      Hercules  !  What  am  I  to  do  ?    The  man  won't  tell  the  truth. 
Good.     You  accuse  before  you  know. 
Pub.       My  good  friend,  let  me  settle  it  for  you  ;  I'll  do  it  at  the  smallest 

possible  cost.     I'll  stop  the  orators'  mouths  before  the  town 

gets  an  inkling  of  it. 
Good.     You'll  lay  out  three  halfpence  in  a  friendly  way,  and  send  in  a 

bill  for  a  shilling. 
Pub.       I  fancy  I  see  a  certain  person  sitting  at  the  bar,  with  suppliant 

staff  in  his  hand  and  wife  and  children  weeping  round  him,  for 

all   the    world   like  Pamphilus'  painting  of   the   Children  of 

Hercules. 
Good.     On  the  contrary,  I  have  wherewith  to  bring  it  about  that  none  but 

the  good  and  wise  shall  be  rich. 
Pub.      What  do  you  say  ?  have  you  stolen  as  much  as  that  ? 
Good.     Confound  it !  you'll  be  the  death  of  me. 

Pub.       Nay,  you  will  have  none  but  yourself  to  thank  for  your  death. 
Good.     No  fear  of  that,  seeing  I  hold  possession  of  Plutus,  you  old 

beggar ! 
Pub.       Plutus,  says  he  !  a  pretty  Plutus  you've  got ! 
Good.     The  god  himself.— P«<J.     Where  is  he  1—Good.    Why,  indoors.— 

Pub.    Where  ? — Good.    At  my  house. — Pub.    Your  house  ? — 

Good.     Certainly.— /»«^.     The  devil !  Plutus  at  your  house  ? — 

Good.     By  heaven,  it  is  as  I  say. — Pub.     You  are  speaking  the 

truth  ?—c;^tf^.    Yes.— /»«^.    By  Vesta  ?—C?<w</.    Yea,  by  Nep- 


31 


tune  ! — Pub.    Nepiune  of  the  Ocean  ? — Good.    And  any  other 

Neptune  there  may  be. 
Pub.      Then  are  you  not  for  sending  your  visitor  round  to  your  friends  ? 
Good.     That  has  yet  to  come. 
Pub.      To  come  ? 

Good.     Yes.     He  has  first  to  be  restored  to  sight :  at  present  he  is  blind. 
Pub.       Ah,  I  always  wondered  why  he  never  found  his  way  to  me,  all 

these  years. 

While  they  are  engaged  in  this  talk  there  suddenly  bursts  in  upon  them 
a  hideous  hag,  looking  like  a  Fury  out  of  a  tragedy.  She  begins  to  reproach 
them  with  doing  a  hasty  and  unholy  deed  in  thinking  to  open  the  blind 
god's  eyes :  she  has  a  right  to  speak  for  she  is  their  old  companion  Poverty. 
After  some  preliminary  exchange  of  abuse  the  scene  settles  down  to  the 
forensic  contest  {in  anapcests):  Goodman  and  his  friend  putting  the  case 
for  riches,  and  Poverty  pleading  for  herself.  The  Chorus  just  speak  for  the 
purpose  of  inviting  the  disputants  to  begin.  Goodman  opens  his  case  by 
urging  that,  his  eyes  once  opened.  Riches  must  reverse  the  inequalities  of 
the  world  and  bestow  favours  on  the  good. 

Here  is  a  rogue,  who  is  rolling  in  riches 
robbed  from  his  fellows  to  feather  his  nest ; 

There  are  the  honest,  who  never  know  fortune, 
never  from  hunger  nor  scantiness  free, 

All  through  a  life  of  toil  unending, 
desperate  Poverty,  stable  with  thee. 

Poverty  calls  them  dotards  for  not  seeing  that  with  the  loss  of  such  inequali- 
ties will  be  lost  the  motive  of  all  enterprise. 

Plutus  will  see,  and  divide  himself  equally ; 

Science  and  Art  will  fall  unto  decay. 
Who  will  be  smith  ?  or  shipwright  ?  or  shoemaker  ?  • 

who  will  tan  leather  ?  or  puddle  in  clay  ? 
Who  will  look  after  the  ploughing  and  reaping  ? 

washing  of  linen  ?  or  setting  a  stitch  ? 
Who  is  to  care  for  laborious  arts,  when 
all  may  be  idle  as  all  will  be  rich. 
Chrem.     Truce  to  your  list !  and  the  nonsense  you're  talking  ! 

all  that  we  want  our  slaves  will  supply. 
Pov.         Aye  !  —  but  who  will  supply  you  the  article  slaves  ? 
Chrem.         Slaves  !  —  have  we  not  money  to  buy  ? 
Pov.         Who  is  to  sell  them,  when  money's  an  article 

not  in  demand  ? 
Chrem.  Some  lucre-led  hound. 

Merchant  in  man-flesh  from  Thessaly  coming ; 
where  as  we  know  man-stealers  abound. 
Pov.         Softly  !  but,  as  you  order  the  world,  there 
never  will  be  a  man-stealer  at  all : 
Who  that  is  rich  will  encounter  the  risks  that 
must  to  the  share  of  the  kidnapper  fall  ? 

Under  such  a  regime,  she  continues,  where  will   they  get  gifts  for  their 
mistresses,  or  the  various  luxuries  of  life  ? 

Under  my  reign  if  you  require  a 

thing  of  the  kind,  you  have  it  with  ease : 
I,  like  a  sharp  tyrannical  mistress, 

ever  sit  by  the  artificer's  side, 


32 


Threatening  death,  or  making  h>m  work  for  a 

call  from  within  that  will  not  be  denied. 
Chrem.    You  to  pretend  to  be  our  benefactress  ! 

Truly  you  give  us  —  blains  on  our  toes, 
Hungering  children,  withered  old  women, 

fleas  in  numbers  that  nobody  knows. 
Armies  of  gnats  to  slaughter  our  sleep,  ever 

tmmpeting,  while  they  encircle  one's  head, 
*  Sleeper,  awake  !  you  may  waken  to  hunger, 

nevertheless,  you  must  get  out  of  bed.' 
Bed,  did  I  say  ?  —  'tis  a  mattress  of  rushes,  your 

cover  a  moth-eaten  matting  of  flags ; 
Under  your  head  you  may  have  a  great  stone,  and 

wear  for  a  coat  a  mere  bundle  of  rags. 
Add  to  these  treasures  the  stalks  of  a  mallow, 

succulent  food  when  one  cannot  get  bread ; 
Dishes  of  peas  in  their  season  —  oh,  no  !  old 

tops  of  the  turnip  will  serve  one  instead. 
Is  it  a  stool,  or  a  basin  you  wish  for  ? 

Jars  that  are  broken  will  serve  you ;  and  then 
What  would  you  ask  more  ?  — These  are  the  treasures, 
Poverty,  you  have  presented  to  men. 

Poverty  retorts  that  they  are  confusing  the  poor  man  and  the  beggar. 

Poor,  not  a  beggar,  he  wants  not  and  wastes  not ;  has 

bread  for  his  eating,  and  clothes  for  his  back  ; 
All  day  cheerfully  sticking  to  work  he  has 

nothing  superfluous,  nothing  to  lack. 
Happy  indeed,  is  the  man  you  describe,  and 

blessed,  by  Ceres,  the  life  he  has  led  ! 
All  through  his  days  he  has  laboured  and  stinted,  yet 

leaves  not  enough  to  bury  him,  dead. 

But  which,  she  asks,  has  the  fairer  servants  to  look  upon  ? 

His  are  the  men  with  the  *  fair  round  belly '  the 

fat  on  their  ankles,  and  gout  in  the  toes ; 
Mine  are  the  slender,  the  lithesome,  and  lively, 
wasps  in  the  waist,  and  wasps  to  their  foes ; 
Chrem.     Elegant,  terrible  wasps  if  you  please,  all 
carefully  starved  to  the  requisite  shape. 

Still  stronger  is  the  case  for  Poverty  when  the  character  of  her  servants  is 
considered. 

Pov.         Everywhere  look  at  the  Friends  of  the  People,  the 

favourite  leaders  of  public  opinion  ; 
While  they  are  poor,  how  honest  and  just  are  their 

views  about  popular  rights  and  dominion  : 
Let  them,  however,  but  get  into  office, 

let  them  get  fat  on  the  spoils  of  the  town : 
Straight  they  will  turn  into  rogues,  and  will  talk  of  the 

duty  of  putting  the  Populace  down. 

Even  Goodman  has  to  admit  this  last  argument.  But,  he  makes  rejoinder, 
how  IS  It  that  all  men  hate  and  fly  Poverty  ?— She  answers  that  they  hate 
to  be  corrected  :  children  fly  their  parents  for  the  same  reason.— But  Good- 


Chrem, 


33 


man  takes  refuge  in  the  gods,  who  have  all  things,  whereas  they  leave 
penury  to  mortals. — Poverty  meets  him  on  his  own  ground. 

Jupiter's  poor.     And  that  I  will  show  you  by 

process  of  reasoning  lucid  and  curt. 
If  he  were  rich,  how  could  it  have  happened  that 

when  he  set  up  the  Olympian  cause, 
Duly  to  which  in  quinquennial  periods 

Greeks  from  all  quarters  assemble  in  force, 
He  should  have  offered  the  winner  no  more  than  a 

spray  of  wild  olive  to  set  on  his  hair  ? 
Nothing  but  gold  would  have  met  the  occasion, 

if,  as  you  fancy,  he  had  it  to  spare. 
Chrem.     Rather,  it  shows  him  as  valuing  gold,  and 

holding  his  own  with  remarkable  thrift : 
Nothing  is  lost  from  his  store,  while  conquerors 

go  away  proud  with  a  trumpery  gift. 

Neither  party  convinces  the  other,  2,u^  Poverty  is  driven  off  with  taunts 
and  blows ;  while  Goodman  takes  blind  Plutus  off  to  the  temple  of  Aescula- 
pius, and  the  chorus  filled  up  the  interval  with 

A  DANCE  — SCENE  II 

Little  Carian  returns  and  relates  to  the  Wife  of  Chremylus  (as  in  a 
Messenger's  Speech)  the  scene  in  the  temple  :  how  the  various  sick  people 
came,  each  bringing  his  bed,  and  lay  down  for  the  night  within  the  Sacred 
Building  in  order  round  the  walls.  Various  comic  incidents  fill  up  the 
story.  How  the  priest  came  to  the  altar  on  which  the  offerings  of  dried 
figs  and  cakes  were  placed,  and  reverently  deposited  these  — in  his  pocket. 
How  he  himself  smelt  out  a  pot  of  porridge  which  an  old  woman  had  beside 
her  bed,  and  he,  emulous  of  the  piety  of  the  priest,  reached  his  hand 
towards  the  porridge  — 

Goodman's  Wife.    Daring  man  !  were  you  not  afraid  of  the  god  ? 
Little  Carian.         Yes,  horribly,— lest  he  should  get  to    the  porridge 

before  me. 

Just  as  he  was  reaching  it  the  owner  heard  a  noise  and  stretched  out  her 
hand :  he  caught  it  in  his  teeth  and  hissed  like  Aesculapius'  sacred 
snake  :  the  old  woman  in  terror  put  her  head  under  the  bedclothes  and  he 
swallowed  the  porridge.  In  the  dead  of  night  Aesculapius,  with  his  two 
daughters,  Health  and  Panacea,  went  round  and  ministered  to  each  sufferer. 
They  cured  Plutus  by  whistling  for  two  prodigious  snakes,  which  licked  his 
eyeballs  and  he  ^^-vi .—Goodman' s  Wife  and  the  slave  prepare  to  meet  the 
god  on  his  return. 

DANCE  — SCENE  III 

The  return  of  Plutus  in  triumph  —  already  incommoded  by  crowds  of  dis- 
interested people  who  must  wish  him  joy.     He  offers  formal  thanksgiving 
and  will  know  in  future  where  to  bestow  his  favors.     He  repels  Goodman') 
Wife  in  her  attempt  to  deluge  him  with  sweetmeats,  in  order  (he  says)  to 
avoid  stage  effects.     [A  hit  at  the  poet  himself  as  well  as  his  rivals.] 

DANCE— SCENE  IV 

A  Just  Man  arrives  to  offer  thanksgiving  to  Plutus  at  his  deliverance 
from  life-long  poverty,  the  result  of  helping  ungrateful  friends.  He  brings 
his  thread-bare  cloak,  and  clouted  shoes  to  dedicate  them  before  the  god 


34 


Enter  to  him  an  Informer  in  distress  that  his  trade  no  longer  pays  and  he 
is  being  mined.  The  usual  badgering  of  this  unpopular  profession  takes 
place.  Informer  tries  to  represent  himself  as  a  pillar  of  the  state,  whose 
sole  object  is  to  aid  the  established  laws,  and  hinder  wrong-doing. 

Goodman.    Has  not  the   constitution    appointed    magistrates  for  this 

express  purpose  ? 
Informer.    But  who  is  to  act  as  accuser  ? 
Goodman.    The  constitution  says,  "  Whoever  pleases." 
Informer.    That's  me.    The  burden  of  the  constitution   rests  on  my 

shoulders. 
Goodman.    Alas,  poor  constitution  ! 
In  the  end  the  Informer  is  forced  to  change  clothes  with  i\it  Just  Man^  and 
then  driven  off. 

DANCE  — SCENE  V 

An  Old  Woman  enters  to  complain  of  a  youth,  poor  but  wondrous  fair, 
who  but  a  little  while  ago  loved  her,  and  loaded  her  with  caresses  :  but  now 
for  some  reason  has  suddenly  deserted  her. 

The  Young  Man  enters^  crowned  with  chapletSy  and  at  the  head  of  a  band 
of  torchlight  revellers.  He  scoffs  at  his  aged  flame  and  her  endearments, 
cruelly  holding  up  the  torch  to  her  face  to  show  the  wrinkles.  He  suddenly, 
however,  recovers  his  respect  for  age  when  he  notices  that  Goodman  is  in 
years ;  and  they  go  in  together. 

DANCE  — SCENE  VI 

Enter  Mercury.  His  occupation  as  usher  to  the  gods  is  now  fast  going 
(since  men  now  no  longer  look  to  heaven  for  prosperity).  He  proposes  to 
take  service  with  Plutus :  and  goes  through  the  list  of  his  divine  offices. 
He  will  be  their  Turnkey.— But  they  never  lock  their  doors. —  Then  their 
Chief  Merchant.— But  they  have  riches  already,  and  do  not  need  to  drive 
bargains.— Then  let  them  make  him  Trickster-General.— But  they  are 
going  in  for  innocence. — At  least  he  can  be  Marshal  of  the  Way. —  No :  the 
god  has  got  his  eyes  back,  and  can  see  to  walk  alone. —  So  he  has  at  last  to 
take  service  as  Pudding-washer. 

DANCE  — EXODUS 

The  Priest  of  Jupiter  himself  comes  at  last :  the  temples  are  all  deserted 
and  his  occupation  gone.  He  enters  the  service  of  Plutus,  and  they  form  a 
farcical  procession  y  the  Chorus  falling  in  at  the  rear,  singing. 


35 


A  SCENE  FROM  THE  FROGS 

The  god  Bacchus  and  his  slave  Xanthias  have  crossed  the  Styx  and 
arrived  m  the  region  of  the  Dead.     Suddenly,  a  sound  of  flutes  is  heard 
and  they  stand  aside  to  make  way  for  a  * 

COMUS 

Torchlight  Procession  of  the  Initiated 

Chorus         Come  from  thy  holy  seats, 

Come  from  thy  deep  retreats, 

Come,  come,  lacchus. 
Dancing  along  the  mead. 
Come,  thine  own  troop  to  lead. 

Come,  come,  lacchus. 
Let  the  fresh  myrtle  bough. 

Studded  with  flowers, 
Wave  o'er  thy  crowned  brow. 

Free  mirth  is  ours. 
•    So  let  thy  foot  advance. 
Bold  in  the  graceful  dance. 
This  holy  company. 
Gathered  for  revelry. 
Wistfully  waits  for  thee : 

Come,  come,  lacchus. 


Xan. 
Bacc. 


Much-honored  Porserpine,  this  smell  of  pork  is  nice! 
Pray  you  be  still,  and  you  may  chance  to  get  a  slice. 


Chorus  Kindle  the  flaming  brands, 

Uplift  them  in  thy  hands. 

Light!  light!  lacchus. 
All  the  field  shines  afar ; 
Thou  art  our  Evening  Star, 

Bright,  bright  lacchus. 
Elders,  by  thee  inspired, 

Cast  away  pain. 
Cast  away  years,  and  fired 

Dance  in  thy  train. 
Be  thy  bright  torch  on  high 
Polestar  to  every  eye ; 
While  o'er  the  dewy  lea, 
Dancing  in  company. 
Fleetly  we  follow  thee. 

Blessed  lacchus. 

AnapcBstic  Interlogue 
A  reverent  silence  fits  this  place  ; 

and  from  our  Chorus  let  him  depart 
Who  is  yet  untaught  in  the  Mysteries ; 

who  has  stain  of  guile  on  his  heart ; 


36 


Who  has  not  won  from  the  Muses'  secrets 

freedom  of  thought,  and  bodily  grace  ; 
Who  has  not  learned  from  Cratinus  the  bull-fed 

what  is  befitting  the  time  and  the  place ; 
Who  takes  pleasure  in  scurrilous  jesting, 

not  regarding  the  '  whom '  and  the  *  when ' ; 
Who  stays  not  a  strife  in  the  city,  but 

is  a  churl  towards  his  own  townsmen  ; 
Who,  for  his  private  object,  fans  their 

factious  fury  and  mutual  hate  ; 
Who,  for  a  gift  or  favour,  ministers 

wrong  for  right  as  their  magistrate ; 
Sells  his  ship  or  deserts  his  post,  or, 

under  colour  of  trafficking,  sends, 
Like  a  Thorycio,  thongs,  or  hemp,  or 

pitch  to  serve  the  enemies'  ends ; 
He  who  at  the  feast  of  Bacchus, 

having  been  smartly  lashed  in  a  play, 
Goes  to  the  Courts,  and  bringing  hjs  action, 

nibbles  a  hole  in  the  poet's  pay : 
These,  one  and  all,  I  forewarn,  I  forbid,  I  pro- 
hibit from  hearing  our  mystical  song  ! 
And  summon  all  others  to  lend  us  their  voices, 

and  keep  this  feast  the  merry  night  long. 


Semichorus 


Semichorus 


Chorus 


Semichorus 


Semichorus 


Where  the  turf  invites  our  feet. 
Where  the  flowers  are  rank  and  sweet. 

Brave  hearts,  advance,  advance  ! 
Stirring  foot  and  merry  lip. 
Flinging  wanton  jest  and  quip, 

Befit  the  Mystics'  dance. 

Nay,  enough  of  frolic  wit ; 
Wear  the  palm  who  wins  in  it. 

Praise  ye  the  Holy  Maid  ; 
Lady,  Saviour,  unto  thee. 
Rise  our  strains  ;  for  thou  wilt  be 

Our  never-failing  aid. 

And  now  with  holy  hymns  adorn 
Queen  Ceres  of  the  golden  corn. 

Ceres,  let  thine  eye  be  o'er  us, 

Lady  of  the  Mysteries  ! 
Look  benignly  on  thy  Chorus  ; 

Shield  us  from  our  enemies. 
So  in  mirth  and  dance  and  song 
We  may  while  the  whole  day  long. 

Much.to  please  the  laughter-loving, 
Much  to  please  the  wiser  head, 

May  I  speak :  that,  all  approving, 
Everywhere  it  may  be  said, 

Worthily  our  part  was  done. 

Worthily  the  garland  won. 


37 


Chorus 


Semichorus 


Invoke  ye  now  the  lusty  god 

Who  oft  with  us  the  dance  has  trod. 

Come,  master  of  the  sweetest  strain, 
lacchus  come,  to  guide  our  train 

Forth  to  the  Goddess'  dwelling ; 

And  show  how,  toil  dispelling. 
Thy  guidance  in  our  festal  sport 
Beguiles  the  way,  and  makes  it  short. 

Come,  lover  of  the  dance  and  song, 
lacchus  come  :  to  thee  belong 
The  skirt  in  frolic  tatters, 
And  sandal  rent.     What  matters  ? 
Protected  by  thy  festal  sway, 
Unchided  we  may  dance  and  play. 

Come,  lover  of  the  song  and  dance, 

lacchus  come  :  looking  askance, 
I  saw  two  eyes  that  twinkled, 
A  cheek  with  laughter  wrinkled, 

For  she  looked  merrily  at  me. 

lacchus,  join  our  company. 


Xan.         Where  is  that  lass  ?  for  I  am  much  disposed  to  try 

To  break  a  jest  and  dance  with  her, 
■^^^^'  And  so  am  1, 


Iambic  Interlogue 

Chorus  *  Now  shall  we,  fellow-mockers. 

Make  game  of  Archedemus  ? 
Who  at  the  election  brought  forth  nought  but  blackballs : 

But  now  has  a  large  following 

In  the  tomb's  upper  circles, 
And  sets  the  fashion  in  hell's  rascalry. 

And  Kleisthenes,  it's  rumored. 

Amid  the  musty  tombstones, 
Tears  his  fair  hair,  and  wounds  his  dainty  cheek. 

Upon  the  bare  earth  flings  him, 

To  whine  and  wail  and  weep  for 
Sebinus,  late  of  Rogue-and-Rascal  street. 

And  Kallias,  they  tell  me, 

The  son  of  Lady  Slattern, 
Fought  at  the  sea-fight  bravely  clad  in  —  wench-skin. 


Bacc.        Good  people  can  you  tell  me  where  does  Pluto  dwell? 

For  we  are  just  arrived,  and  never  here  before. 
Chorus      Ye  need  no  further  go,  nor  ask  again;  for  knoiv 

That  happily  ye  stand  before  the  very  door, 
Bacc.        You  sir,  pick  up  the  pack. 


♦This  and  the  following  fourteen  lines  are  not  by  Mr.  Rudd. 


38 


39 


Xan,  Ideas  are  to  lack; 

It  is  the  very  thing  he  said  no  great  while  back. 


Semichorus 


Semichorus 


Ye  who  have  the  holy  sign, 
Ye  who  share  the  feast  divine, 
Through  the  flowery  grove  advance, 
Form  the  circle,  lead  the  dance, 
I  must  to  the  deeper  shade, 
Where  holy  women,  wife  and  maid. 
Worshipping  shall  spend  the  night ; 
For  them  I  must  lift  the  light. 

To  our  meadows,  sprent  with  flowers. 
With  our  measured  step  and  sound. 
Gracefully  tread  ye  the  ground  ; 
Ever  as  the  blessed  hours 

Bring  the  festal  season  round. 
Onward  to  our  rosy  bowers. 
Unto  us,  and  us  alone, 
Who,  at  the  divine  behest, 
Duteously  have  shared  our  best 
In  service  to  our  own 

And  to  the  stranger  coming  guest. 
Is  this  cheerful  sun-light  shown. 

[Chorus  retire  to  right  and  left  of  Orchestra.'] 


TRINUMMUS:  OR  TWO-POUND-TEN 

Persons.— Luxury  and  Poverty,  Allegorical  Figures. — Charmides,  an 
Athenian  Merchant — his  son  Lesbonicus  (who  has  a  slave 
Stasimus) — his  friend  Callicles  (who  has  another  friend 
Megaronides). — Philto,  another  old  Gentleman  of  Athens — 
his  son  Lysiteles. — A  Professional  Sharper. 

Scene:  Athens^  the  street  in  which  is  Charmides'  house. 


PROLOGUE 

Luxury  appears  conducting  her  daughter  Poverty  to  the  house  of  Char- 
mides.    She  explains  to  the  audience  : 

There  is  a  certain  youth  dwells  in  this  house. 
Who  by  my  aid  has  squander'd  his  estate. 
Since  then  for  my  support  there's  nothing  left. 
My  daughter  I'm  here  giving  him  to  live  with. 


Megaronides  appears  on  his  way  to  call  on  his  friend  Callicles,  soliloquis- 
ing on  the  painful  duty  he  feels  of  reproaching  him  with  declension  from 
his  old  uprightness.    Enter  Callicles  and  they  exchange  greetings. 

Meg.  Save  you,  Callicles : 

How  do  you  do  ?    How  have  you  done  ? 
Cal.    So,  so. 

Meg.  Your  wife,  how  fares  she  ? 

Cal.  Better  than  I  wish. 

Meg.  Troth  I  am  glad  to  hear  she's  pure  and  hearty. 
Cal.    You're  glad  to  hear  what  sorrows  me. 
Meg.  I  wish  the  same  to  all  my  friends  as  to  myself. 
Cal.     But  hearkye — how  is  your  good  dame  ? 
Meg.  Immortal ;  lives,  and  is  like  to  live. 
Cal.  A  happy  hearing  ! 

Pray  heav'n,  that  she  may  last  to  outlive  you ! 
Meg.  If  she  were  yours,  faith  I  should  wish  the  same. 
Cal,    Say,  shall  we  make  a  swop  ?    I  take  your  wife. 

You  mine  ?     I  warrant  you,  you  would  not  get 

The  better  in  the  bargain. 
Meg.  Nor  would  you 

Surprise  me  unawares. 
Cal.  Nay,  but  in  troth 

You  would  not  even  know  what  you're  about. 
Meg.  Keep  what  you've  got.     The  evil  that  we  know 

Is  best.     To  venture  on  an  untried  ill. 

Would  puzzle  all  my  knowledge  how  to  act. 

Well — give  me  a  good  life,  and  that's  a  long  one. 

But  mind  me  now,  all  joking  set  apart, 

I  came  to  you  on  purpose. 


40 


cha^ractJr^^'^^"'^^^  ^^^^"^^  *°  ^^^^  severely  about  the  change  in  his  friend's 


Ca/. 
Meg. 

Cal. 

Meg. 
Cal. 


How  came  it  in  your  mind  to  hold  this  langua;?e  ? 
For  that  it  doth  behove  all  honest  men 
To  keep  them  both  from  blame  and  from  suspicion. 
Both  cannot  be. 

For  why? 

--      -,     .  Is  that  a  question  ? 

Myself  of  my  own  bosom  keep  the  key, 
To  shut  out  misdemeanour;  but  suspicion 
Is  harbour'd  in  another's.     Thus,  if  I 
Suspect  you  to  have  stol'n  the  crown  of  Jove, 
From  where  he  stands  in  the  high  Capitol, 
What  though  you  have  not  done  it,  I  am  free 
However  to  suspect  you,  nor  can  you 
Prevent  me. 

?^u?"^^?,  ^^  Callicles  as  his  closest  friend  to  tell  him  what  he  finds  wrong 
in  him,  Megaronides  details  the  opinions  the  town  is  beginning  to  have  of 
him,  how  he  IS  nickamed  Gripe-all,  Vulture,  and  the  like,  and  especially 
how  people  talk  about  his  behaviour  to  his  absent  friend  Charmides      This 
Charmides   is   understood  to   have  committed   the  general  welfare  of  his 
family  and  affairs  to  Callicles,  his  own   son  being  a  fast  youth,  not  to  be 
trusted  with  money ;    now,  instead  of  seeking  to  restrain  the  young  man 
people  say  Callicles  is  abetting  his  extravagances,  and  has  actually,  when 
the  scapegrace  sought  to  raise  money  by  selling  his   own  father's  house, 
aided  his  plans  by  himself  becoming  the  buyer.     To  the  astonishment  of 
Megaronides  Callicles  admits  that  this  rumour  is  perfectly  true  •   he  then 
with  great  caution  and  secrecy  lets  out  the  whole  story— how  that  Char- 
mides, on  leaving  Athens,  committed  to  him  a   family  secret,  viz    that  a 
huge  treasure  was  buried  in  the  house,  of  which  the  father  dared  not  let  his 
son  have  any  knowledge  lest  in  his  absence  he  should  appropriate  it.     Now 
Callicles  learned  all  of  a  sudden  that  Lesbonicus  was  going  to  sell  the  house  • 
alarmed  lest  the  treasure  should  pass  out  of  their  hands  altogether  he  saw 
no  better  device  than  for  himself  to  purchase  the  house,  and  keep  it  in  trust 
for  the  tather  s  return,  or  for  the  daughter's  marriage  portion.    Megaronides 
IS  confounded  at  the  mistake  he  has  made,  and,  when  the  two  friends  have 
amicably  parted,  inveighs  against  the  gossips  which  had  led  him  astray. 

Ev'ry  thing 
They  will  pretend  to  know,  yet  nothing  know. 
They'll  dive  into  your  breast,  and  learn  good  thoughts 
^      Present  and  future :  nay,  they  can  discover 
What  the  king  whisper'd  in  her  highness's  ear, 
And  tell  what  passed  in  Juno's  chat  with  Jove. 

II 

Enter  Lystieles  soliloquising  [in  highly  intricate  and  changeable  metres! 
on  life  generally;  he  IS  perplexed  with  his  inability  to  choose  between  i 
life  of  pleasure  and  a  life  of  thrift. 

Unnumbered  the  cares  that  my  heart  is  revolving, 
Unmeasured  the  trouble  I  bear  while  I  ponder; 
Myself  with  myself  is  afflicted  and  wasted, 
My  thoughts  are  a  master  that  cruelly  drives  me : 


41 


Yet  still  comes  no  answer,  no  end  to  my  query — 
To  which  life  of  two  shall  my  years  be  devoted. 
To  love,  or  to  business. 

He  will  bring  the  parties  face  to  face  :  and  first  he  speaks  for  love. 
Love  has  none  but  willing  subjects  :  in  his  nets  none  other  snares 
But  the  loving  :  these  he  aims  at,  these  pursues,  their  substance  wastes. 
Smooth-spoken,  sharp  finger'd,  a  liar,  a  sweet-tooth, 
A  robber,  a  bane  to  the  life  of  seclusion, 
A  hunter  of  secrets. 
Let  a  lover  once  be  stricken  with  the  kiss  of  her  he  loves, 
In  a  trice  all  he  has  creeps  away,  melts  away. 
'  Give  me  this,  honey  dear,  by  our  love,  do  not  fail ' :  — 
And  the  goose  must  reply,  *  Heart  of  mine,  be  it  so  : 
Also  that,  also  more,  what  you  wish  shall  be  given.' 
Thus  a  victim  bound  she  strikes : 
Begs  for  more  unsatisfied. 

With   the  thought  of  this  waste  of  money,  and  the  bitter  jealousies  that 
vary  the  sweets  of  a  life  of  pleasure,  the  case  goes  against  love. 

Begone,  love,  the  word  of  divorcement  is  spoken ; 
Love,  to  me  never  more  be  a  lover. 
It  is  fix'd,  I  am  all  for  what  profits. 

Enter  P/iilto,  his  father,  and  the  moralising  continues  [the  metre  gradually 
settling  down  to  accelerated  rhythm  or  trochaics^.  The  father  has  a  general 
disgust  at  the  thought  of  modern  degeneracy: 

Upsetting  all  the  good  old  ways,  an  evil,  grasping,  greedy  crew, 
They  hold  the  sacred  as  profane ;  public  or  private,  all  is  one. 

The  son  claims  to  have  lived  according  to  his  father's  good  precepts  :  the 
lather  checks  this  self-satisfaction : 

Cover  o'er  good  deeds  with  good  deeds,  tile-like,  till  no  rain  comes 

through : 
Only  he  is  good,  whose  goodness  ever  keeps  him  penitent. 

For  this  very  reason,  the  son  replies,  he  wishes  to  ask  his  father's  assistance 
in  doing  a  kindness  to  a  friend  in  trouble.  The  moralising  Philto  seizes  the 
opportunity  for  a  fresh  lecture  against  so  helping  the  bad  as  to  feed  their 
distemper.     Lysiteles  urges  that  they  are  rich  enough  and  to  spare. 

Phil.  From  however  much  however  little  take  :  is't  more  or  less  ? 
When  Philto  hears  that  the  friend  is  the  spendthrift  Lesbonicus,  he  again 
becomes  severe,  and  will  not  listen  to  the  plea  that  Lesbonicus  has  been 
unfortunate : 

For,  by  heaven,  the  wise  man's  fortune  only  by  himself  is  shaped. 
Lysiteles  urges  that  time  is  required  to  mature  such  prudence. 

Phil.  Length  of  years  is  but  the  relish  ;  wisdom  is  the  food  of  life. 
At  last  Lysiteles  is  allowed  to  explain  that  he  wishes,  not  to  give  his  friend 
anything,  but  to  receive   from   him  his  sister  in  marriage  without  dowry. 
After  a  decent  show  of  protest  the  father  consents,  and  will  himself  make 
the  proposal. 

He  suddenly  sees  Lesbonicus  and  his  slave  Stasimus  coming  up  the  street : 
and  stands  aside  to  hear  what  they  are  talking  about.  The  master  is  angry 
that  all  his  money  is  gone  again,  and  demands  what  has  been  done  with  it  ? 

Stas.  Eaten  and  drunk,  and  washed  away  in  baths ; 

Cooks,  butchers,  poulterers,  fishmongers,  confectioners, 


42 


43 


Perfumers,  have  devoured  it ; — gone  as  soon 
As  a  grain  of  corn  thrown  to  an  ant. 

Lcsbonicus  is  hard  to  convince,  and  Stasimus  has  to  repeat  the  sad  story. 

Sias,  You  cannot  eat  your  cake  and  have  it  too ; — 

Unless  you  think  your  money  is  immortal. 

The  fool  too  late,  his  substance  eaten  up. 

Reckons  the  cost. 
L£s.  Th'  account  is  not  apparent. 

Sias.  Th'  account's  apparent,  but  the  money's  gone. 

Pkilto  discovers  himself,  and,  after  general  courtesies,  makes  his  proposal. 
Lesbonicus  treats  it  as  a  mockery,  though  the  slave  jumps  at  the  idea. 

Phil,  You  tell  me  now, 

We  are  not  on  a  footing ;  that  your  means 

Don't  equal  ours. 
Les.  I  say  so. 

PhU.  What  of  that  ?— 

If  you  were  present  at  a  public  feast, 

And  haply  some  great  man  was  plac'd  beside  you, 

Of  the  choice  cates  serv'd  up  in  heaps  before  him 

Would  you  not  taste,  but  at  the  table  rather 

Sit  dinnerless,  because  he  neigbour'd  you  ? 
Les.    Sure  I  should  eat,  if  he  forbade  me  not. 

Stas.  And  I,  ev'n  if  he  did ;  —  so  cram  myself, 

I'd  stuff  out  both  my  cheeks  :  I'd  seize  upon 

The  daintiest  bits  before  him,  nor  give  way  to  him 

In  matters  that  concem'd  my  very  being. 

At  table  no  one  should  be  shy  or  mannerly, 

Where  all  things  are  at  stake,  divine  and  human. 
Phil.  Faith,  what  you  say  is  right. 
Stas.  I'll  tell  you  fairly. 

Your  great  man,  if  I  meet,  I  make  way  for  him. 

Give  him  the  wall,  show  him  respect,  but  where 

The  belly  is  concem'd,  I  will  not  yield 

An  inch, —  unless  he  box  me  into  breeding. 
Phil.  The  match  that  I  propose  for  your  consent. 

Why  will  you  not  agree  to  ? — What  are  riches  ? — 

The  gods  alone  are  rich  :  to  them  alone 

Is  wealth  and  pow'r  :  but  we  poor  mortal  men, 

When  that  the  soul,  which  is  the  salt  of  life 

Keeping  our  bodies  from  corruption,  leaves  us, 

At  Acheron  shall  be  counted  all  alike, 

The  beggar  and  the  wealthiest. 

Lesbonicus  is  moved  by  this  persistent  kindness,  and  at  last  bethinks  him 
of  a  little  farm  he  has,  the  only  bit  of  his  ancestral  estate  left  to  him  :  he 
insists  upon  giving  this  as  his  sister's  dowry. 

Stas.  Dear  master,  would  you  part  then  with  our  nurse. 

That  feeds  us  ?  our  support  ?  think  what  you're  doing. 
How  shall  we  eat  in  future  ? 

Les.  Hold  your  tongue. 

Am  I  accountable  to  you  ? 

Stas.  {aside)  We're  ruined 

Past  all  redemption,  if  I  don't  invent 
Some  flam. — I  have  it.    Philto  a  word  with  you. 


Phil. 
Stas. 
Phil. 
Stas. 

Phil. 
Stas. 


Phil. 
Stas. 

Phil. 
Stas. 


Les. 
Seas. 
Phil. 
Stas. 


Phil. 
Stas. 


Phil. 


Stas. 


Phil. 
Stas. 
PhU. 
Stas. 


What  would  you  ? 

Step  aside  this  way  a  little. 
I  will.     {They  retire.) 

The  secret  I  shall  now  unfold 
Let  not  my  master  know,  nor  any  other. 
Me  you  may  safely  trust. 

By  gods  and  men 
I  do  conjure  you,  let  not  this  same  farm 
Come  into  your  possession,  or  your  son's. 
The  reason  will  I  tell. 

I  fain  would  hear  it. 
First  then,  whene'er  the  land  is  plough'd,  the  oxen 
Ev'ry  fifth  furrow  drop  down  dead. 

Fie  on  it  I 
A  passage  down  to  Acheron's  in  our  field. 
The  grapes  grow  mouldy  as  they  hang,  before 
They  can  be  gather'd. 

He  is,  I  suppose. 
Persuading  him  :  though  he's  an  arrant  rogue, 
To  me  he's  not  unfaithful. 

Hear  what  follows. 
When  that  the  harvest  promises  most  fair. 
They  gather  in  thrice  less  than  what  was  sown. 
Nay  !  —  then  methinks  it  were  a  proper  place 
For  men  to  sow  their  wild  oats  where  they  would  not 
Spring  up. 

There  never  was  a  person  yet. 
That  ever  own'd  this  farm,  but  his  affairs 
Did  turn  to  bad :  —  some  ran  away,  some  died, 
Some  hang'd  themselves.     Why,  there's  my  master  now, 
To  what  sad  straits  is  he  reduc'd  ! 

O  keep  me 
Far  from  this  farm. 

You'd  have  more  cause  to  say  so. 
Were  you  to  hear  the  whole.     There's  not  a  tree 
But  has  been  blasted  with  the  lightning  ;  more  — 
The  hogs  are  eat  up  with  the  mange ;  the  sheep 
Pine  with  the  rot,  all  scabby  as  this  hand  : 
And  no  man  can  live  there  six  months  together. 
This  farm  is  a  fit  spot,  as  you've  described  it. 
Wherein  to  place  bad  men,  and,  as  they  tell  us 
That  in  those  islands  still  *  The  Fortunate ' 
Assemble  the  upright  and  the  virtuous  livers, 
So  should  the  wicked  here  be  thrust  together, 
Since  'tis  of  such  a  nature. 

'Tis  th'  abode 
Of  misery.    But  without  more  words, —  whatever 
Evil  you'd  search  for,  you  might  find  it  here. 
You  may  go  seek  it  there,  or  where  you  will. 
Be  cautious  how  you  tell  what  I  have  told  you. 
You've  told  it  to  no  babbler. 

Now  my  master 
Would  gladly  part  with  it,  could  he  but  find 
A  gudgeon  to  his  purpose. 


t 


44 

P^^'  I'll  have  none  of  it. 

Stas.  If  you  are  wise,  indeed  you  will  not  have  it. 

Philto  has  been  as  ready  to  be  deceived  as  Stasimus  to  deceive  him :  and 
the  old  man  now  retires,  after  making  the  betrothal  a  formal  agreement,  and 
adding  that  this  business  of  the  farm  Lysiteles  must  settle  with  his  son. 
Stasimus  is  sent  with  the  news  to  the  young  lady. 

Ill 

Stasimus  meeting  Callicles  gives  him  the  news  of  the  betrothal  :  Callicles 
goes  off  wondering  how  the  girl  can  have  made  so  good  a  match  without  a 
dower. Then  the  slave  sees  the  two  young  men  disputing  warmly,  evi- 
dently about  this  vexed  question  of  the  dower,  in  which  Stasimus  feels  so 
keen  a  personal  interest  that  he  stands  aside  and  listens.  The  dispute  is 
long  and  warm,  bringing  out  the  contrast  of  character  between  the  two 
friends.  Lesbonicus  is  presented  as  a  spendthrift  who  is  notwithstanding 
stubborn  in  his  notions  of  family  honour,  though  the  assertion  of  it  is  at  the 
cost  of  his  own  ruin. 

Let  me  not  by  loss  of  honour  seek  relief  from  loss  of  wealth. 

Lysifeles  sees  clearly  what  the  other  means.  He  will  insist  on  giving  up 
this  the  last  bit  of  property  left  him,  the  only  hope  for  recovering  his 
losses  :  and  then,  as  soon  as  the  marriage  is  over,  he  will  fly  from  his  native 
land,  a  needy  adventurer  in  the  wars  !— At  this  Stasimus  can  no  longer 
restrain  himself,  and  cries  out,  "  Bravo !" 

Lesb.  What  brings  here  your  meddling  chatter  ? 
*S'/«J.  What  —  shall  take  it  back  again. 

Stasimus  retires,  and  listens  as  Lysiteles  makes  a  final  condition  of  the 
marriage  that  there  shall  be  no  dowry.  Stasimus  despairs  :  they  will  have 
to  turn  soldiers. 

Enter  Mesaronides  and  Callicles  in  consultation  on  the  new  turn  given  to 
the  whole  affair  by  this  matter  of  the  betrothal.  Callicles  cannot  let  his 
friend's  daughter  be  married  like  a  pauper:  he  could  easily  get  money 
enough  for  the  dowry  out  of  the  buried  treasure,  but  under  what  pretext  can 
he  give  It  to  the  girl,  without  exciting  suspicion  ?  At  last  Megaronides  hits 
upon  a  brilliant  idea.  Let  them  get  one  of  the  professional  sharpers,  that 
are  ready  to  be  hired  for  any  purpose  of  conspiracy ;  and  let  him,  for  a  con- 
sideration, pretend  that  he  has  come  from  Charmides  abroad,  bringing 
money  to  Callicles  with  which  to  dower  his  daughter,  should  she  marry. 
Difficulties  of  detail,  such  as  forging  the  letter,  and  accounting  for  the 
absence  of  the  signet-ring  which  would  naturally  accompany  it,  they  rap- 
idly arrange,  and  exeunt  to  carry  out  the  scheme. 

IV 

Enter  Charmides  just  landed  from  his  voyage,  and  giving  thanks  to  the 
gods  for  his  safe  journey. 

And  to  thee  before  all  others,  Neptune,  is  my  spirit  grateful. 
For,  while  men  have  called  thee  cruel,  stern  of  mood,  unsatiated, 
Measureless  in  might  and  foulness,  I  thy  kindly  aid  have  tasted. 
Merciful  and  calm  I  found  thee,  all  that  heart  could  wish  of  ocean, 
faithful  thou  whom  men  call  faithless.     Surely,  but  for  thy  protection, 
Foully  had  thy  underworkers  torn  in  pieces,  widely  scattering. 
Wretched  me  and  my  belongings,  broadcast  o'er  the  sky-blue  meadows : 


Sharper 


45 

Lo,  like  hungry  hounds  the  whirlwinds  round  about  the  ship  were  circling, 
Floods  above  us,  waves  beneath  us,  howling  gales  on  mainmast  swooping, 
Toppling  yards  and  canvas  splitting :  then  a  gracious  calm  was  sent  us. 

His  meditations  are  interrupted  by  the  approach  of  the  hired  Sharper^ 
who  is  peering  up  and  down  the  street,  dressed  in  a  queer  imitation  of 
foreign  costume. 
Sharper       I'll  name  this  day  the  Feast  of  Two-Pound-Ten, 

On  which  I've  let  my  art  out  for  that  sum. 

Here  am  I,  from  Seleucia  just  arrived, 

Arabia^  Asia,  Macedon, — which  I  never 

Saw  with  my  eyes,  nor  ever  once  set  foot  on. 

Behold,  what  troubles  will  not  poverty 

Bring  on  a  needy  wretch!     For  those  gold  pieces 

Am  I  compelled  to  say  that  I  receiv'd 

These  letters  from  a  man,  of  whom  I'm  ignorant 

Who  he  may  be ;  nor  do  I  know,  indeed. 

If  such  an  one  was  ever  born. 

Charmides  does  not  like  the  man's  face,  especially  as  he  is  looking  hard  at 
his  own  house  door.  He  goes  up  to  him,  and  finds  on  inquiry  that  he  is 
seeking  his  own  son  Lesbonicus. 

Charm.    Why  do  you  want  to  find  them  out  ?    Who  are  you  ? 

W^hence  are  you  ?  where  d'you  come  from  ? 

Hey!     You  ask 

So  many  questions  in  a  breath,  I  know  not 

Which  to  resolve  you  first :  but  if  you'll  put  them 

Gently  and  singly,  one  by  one,  my  name 

I'll  tell,  and  wherefore  I  have  journey'd  hither. 
Charm,    Well,— as  you  please.    Come,— tell  me  first  your  name. 
Sharper  You  ask  an  arduous  task. 
Charm.  Why  so  ? 

Sharper  '  Because, 

Should  you  set  out  before  the  day  began 

With  the  first  part  and  foremost  of  my  name. 

The  night  would  go  to  bed  ere  you  had  reach'd 

The  hindmost  of  it. 

He  had  need  of  torches 

And  of  provisions,  whoso  undertakes 

To  journey  through  it. 

I've  another  name  though  ; 

A  tiny  one, —  no  bigger  than  a  hogshead. 

This  is  a  rogue  in  grain  !  But  harkye  — 

What  ? 

What  want  you  with  those  persons  you  enquired  for  ? 

Sharper  The  father  of  the  young  man,  Lesbonicus, 

Gave  me  these  letters.     He's  my  friend. 
Charm,    {aside)  I  have  him,— 

He's  taken  in  the  manner.     He  pretends 

Myself  did  give  him  letters, —  I  will  have 

Rare  fun  with  him. 
Sharper  Attend,  and  I'll  proceed. 

Charm.    I  am  attentive. 
Sharper  He  commissioned  me 

To  give  one  letter  to  young  Lesbonicus, 

His  son,  the  other  to  his  friend,  to  Callicles. 


Charm. 


Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 


46 


47 


He  has  managed  matters  well. 


Charm,    {aside)  A  pretty  joke,  i'faith  !     I'll  keep  it  up. 
Where  was  he  ?  *-        f 

Sharper 

Charm.    Where  ? 
Sharper  In  Seleucia. 

cf ''T'    Axr-.u  u.  .  ^^"  ^^^  ^«"«^  of  him  ? 

^/4«r/.fr  With  his  own  hands  he  gave  them  into  mine. 

Charm.    What  sort  of  man  ? 

Sharper  He's  taller  than  yourself 

By  half  a  foot. 
Charm,    {aside)  Faith,  he  has  gravell'd  me, 

1  o  find  that  I  was  taller  when  away 

Than  now  I'm  here.     You  knew  him,  did  you  not  ? 
Sharper  Knew  him  ?     A  foolish  question  1     We  were  us'd 

To  mess  together. 

Charm.  Say  then,  what  name  bore  he  ? 

Sharper   A  fair  one  verily. 

Charm.  I'd  hear  his  name. 

Sharper  {hesitating)  It's  — it's —  ah  me  !  — his  name  is  — 

^f^''^-    ,,  What's  the  matter  ? 

Sharper  I  ve  swallowed  it  this  instant  unawares. 

Charm.    How  ?  swallowed,  say  you  ?  troth,  I  like  him  not. 

Who  holds  his  friends  inclos'd  within  his  teeth. 
Sharper  I  had  it  at  my  tongue's  end  but  just  pow. 
Charm,    {aside)  'Twas  opportune  my  coming  here  to-day 

Before  this  rascal. 
Sharper  {aside)  I'm  caught  most  plainly. 

Charm.    Have  you  yet  found  the  name  ? 
Sharper  'Porg  g^^s  and  men 

I  own  myself  abash'd. 

Behold  how  much 
You  knew  him ! 

As  myself.     It  happens  oft 
That  what  we  hold  in  hand,  and  have  in  sight 
We  look  for  as  if  lost.     I'll  recollect  it 
Letter  by  letter.     It  begins  with  C. 
Is  it  Callicias  ? 

No. 

Calippus  ? 

No. 

Charm.    Is't  Callidemides  ? 
Sharper  No. 

Charm.  Callinicus  ? 

Sharper  -^^ 

Charm.    Is't  Callimarchus  ? 
Sharper  'Tis  in  vain  to  seek  it, 

Nor  do  I  heed  it  much,  so  my  own  name 
I  don't  forget. 
Charm.  But  there  are  many  here 

Call'd  Lesbonicus ;  and,  unless  you  tell 
The  father's  name,  I  cannot  shew  them  to  you 
Whom  you  enquire  for.     What  is't  like  ?     We'll  try 
If  we  can  hit  upon  it  by  conjecture. 
Sharper  'Tis  like  Char. 

Charm.  Jg  it  Chares  ?  Charidemus  ? 

Or  Charmides  ? 


Charm. 
Sharper 


Charm. 
Sharper 
Charm, 
Sharper 


< 


l< 


Sharper  Oh,  that.     The  gods  confound  him  ! 

Charm.    'Tis  fitter  you  should  bless  a  friend  than  curse  him. 
Sharper  A  worthless  fellow  to  have  lain  perdue  thus 

Within  my  lips  and  teeth. 
Charm.  ^  ou  should  not  speak 

111  of  an  absent  friend. 
Sharper  Why  did  the  knave 

Then  hide  him  from  me  ? 
Charm.  He  had  answer'd  had  you 

But  caird  him  by  his  name.     Where  is  he  now  ? 
Sharper  Truly  I  left  him  last  at  Rhadamanth 

In  the  Cecropian  Island. 
Charm,    {aside)  Can  there  be 

A  greater  simpleton  than  I,  to  ask 

Where  I  myself  am  ?    But  no  matter.     Tell  me  — 
Sharper  What? 

Charm.  Let  me  ask,  what  places  have  you  been  at  ? 

Sharper  Most  wondrous  ones. 
Charm.  I  should  be  glad  to  hear, 

If  'tis  not  too  much  trouble. 
Sharper  I'm  impatient 

To  give  you  an  account.     Then  first  of  all, 

We  came  to  Araby  in  Pontus. 
Charm,  How  ? 

Is  Araby  in  Pontus  ? 
Sharper  Yes,  it  is ; 

But  not  that  Araby,  where  frankincense 

Is  grown,  but  where  sweet-marjoram,  and  wormwood. 
Charm,    {aside)  'Tis  the  completest  knave  !     More  fool  am  I  though. 

To  ask  him  whence  I  came  (which  I  must  know. 

He  cannot),  but  that  I've  a  mind  to  try. 

How  he'll  get  off  at  last.  — What  is  your  name, 

Young  man  ? 
Sharper  'Tis  Touchit ;  that.  Sir,  is  my  name, 

A  common  one. 
Charm.  A  very  knavish  name. 

As  though  you  meant  to  say,  if  anything 

Was  trusted  to  you,  touch  it,  and  'tis  gone. 

But  harkye, —  whither  did  you  further  travel  ? 

Marvellous  travels  of  the  Munchausen  order  are  narrated  until  Charmides 
has  had  enough,  and  begins  to  come  to  the  point. 

Charm.  Hoa,  Touchit, 

Three  words  with  you. 
Sharper  Three  hundred,  if  you  please. 

Charm.    Have  you  the  money  you  received  of  Charmides  ? 
Sharper  In  Phillippeans,  told  upon  the  nail, 

A  thousand  pieces. 
Charm.  You  received  them,  did  you, 

Of  Charmides  himself  ? 
Sharper  It  had  been  wondrous 

Had  I  receiv'd  them  of  his  grandsire,  truly. 

Or  his  great-grandsire,  who  are  dead. 
Charm.  Young  man. 

Prithee  give  me  the  gold. 


48 


Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 


I'l' 


Sharper 


Charm. 
Sharper 


Charm. 
Sharper 


Charm. 
Sharper 
Charm. 
Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 


Sharper 
Charm, 


Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 

Charm. 

Sharper 


Charm. 


Give  you  what  gold  ? 
That  which  you  own'd  you  did  receive  of  me. 
Received  of  you  ? 

I  say  it. 

Who  are  you  ? 
Who  gave  to  you  the  thousand  pieces : — I 
Am  Charmides. 

You're  not,  nor  ever  shall  be, 
I  mean,  the  master  of  this  gold.     Away, 
You  are  a  knowing  one  ! — you'd  take  me  in  I 
But  I  too  am  a  knowing  one. 

I'm  Charmides. 
You  may  be,  but  in  vain.     I  bring  no  money. 
You've  crept  upon  me  in  the  very  nick 
Most  slyly.     When  I  said  I  had  brought  gold, 
You  then  were  Charmides ;  before  you  were  not, 
Till  1  made  mention  of  the  gold.     'Twont  do. 
So  prithee,  as  you've  taken  up  the  name 
Of  Charmides,  e'en  lay  it  down  again. 
Who  am  I,  if  I  am  not  that  I  am  ? 

What's  that,  to  me  ?     Be  whom  you  please,  you're  welcome, 
So  you  are  not  the  person  I'd  not  have  you. 
Before,  you  were  not  who  you  were  ;  and  now, 
You  are  who  then  you  were  not. 

Come,  dispatch. 
How  ?     What  dispatch  ? 

Give  me  the  money. 
Sure 
You  dream,  old  gentleman. 

Did  you  not  own. 
That  Charmides  had  giv'n  it  you  ? 

I  did,— 
In  writing, — not  in  specie. 

Prithee  hence, 
And  leave  the  place  this  instant,  e'er  I  order  you 
A  hearty  drubbing. 

Why? 

Because  myself 
Am  that  same  Charmides  that  you've  invented  ; 
Who  you  pretend  has  giv'n  you  letters. 

How! 
I  pray  you,  are  you  he  ? 

Yes,  I  am  he. 

What  say  you  ?  are  you  he  ? 

I  am,  I  say. 
Himself  ? 

I  say,  I'm  Charmides, — himself. 
And  are  you  he  himself  ? 

His  very  self. — 
Out  of  my  sight ;  begone,  then. 

Now,  because 
Your  coming  was  so  late,  I'll  have  you  beaten 
At  the  new  ^diles'  and  my  own  award. 
What !  you  abuse  me  ? 


I 


\l 


49 

Sharper  All  the  gods  confound  you 

For  your  anival !  I  had  little  cared, 
If  you  had  perish'd  first.     I've  got  at  least 
The  money  for  my  trouble.     Ill  betide  you  ! 
And  now,  or  who  you  are,  or  who  you  are  not, 
I  value  not  a  straw.     To  him  I'll  go. 
Who  hir'd  me  for  those  pieces,  and  acquaint  him. 
How  that  his  money's  thrown  away.     I'm  gone. 
Farewell  ?     Fare  ill !     May  all  the  gods  confound  you. 
For  coming  from  abroad,  you  Master  Charmides  ! 

When  at  last  he  is  alone,  Charmides  wonders  what  the  meaning  of  all  this 
business  can  be  :  the  bell  does  not  clink  without  being  handled. 

He  happens  to  see  Stasimus  running  along  the  street,  talking  to  himself, 
and  stands  aside  to  listen.  Stasimus  is  heard  to  speak  of  having  lost  a  ring 
at  the  tippling-house  :  he  alternately  runs  on  and  stops,  hesitating  whether 
to  go  back  in  the  hopeless  chance  of  getting  his  ring  again. 

There  was  Theruchus, 
Cerconicus,  Crinnus,  Cercobulus,  Collabus, 
A  race  of  broken-shin'd  and  black-eyed  bruisers, 
Knights  of  the  chain,  and  squires  o'th'  whipping-post. 
And  canst  thou  hope  then,  from  among  such  fellows 
To  get  thy  ring,  when  one  of  them  did  steal 
A  racer's  shoe  off  in  his  utmost  speed  ? 

Charm.    'Fore  heav'n,  a  finish'd  thief  ! 

Stas.  What's  best  to  do  ? 

Shall  I,  in  seeking  what  is  gone  forever. 
Add  loss  of  labour  too  ?    What's  gone,  is  gone. 
Then  tack  about,  and  hie  thee  to  thy  master. 

Stopping  at  last  near  where  Charmides  is  standing  unseen,  he  vents  his 
vexation  in  a  long  tirade  against  the  decay  of  public  morals ;  instead  of 
the  good  old  thrift,  vice  is  now  the  road  to  honour. 

What  you  lend  is  lost ; 
And  when  you  ask  it  of  your  friend  again. 
You  by  your  kindness  make  that  friend  your  enemy. 
Still  would  you  press  him  further,  of  two  things 
You  have  the  choice,  either  to  lose  your  loan, 
Or  lose  your  friend. 

At  this  point  Charmides  recognizes  in  the  speaker  his  own  slave,  and  when 
at  last  Stasimus  is  going,  shouts  to  him  to  stop.  For  a  time  the  slave 
does  not  know  who  is  calling  him,  and  is  saucy.  At  last  Charmides  declares 
himself. 

Charm.  Turn  your  head. 

And  look  upon  me  :  I  am  Charmides. 
Stas.         Ha  !  who  makes  mention  of  that  best  of  mortals  ? 
Charm.   That  best  of  mortals,  he  himself,  'tis  I. 
Stas.         {turning)  O  sea  !  O  earth  !  O  heav'n  !  O  all  ye  gods  ! 

Have  I  my  eyesight  clear  ?  and  is  it  he  ? 

Or  is  it  not  ?     'Tis  he  !  'tis  he,  for  certain  ! 

'Tis  he  indeed  !     O  my  most  wish'd-for  master, 

Save  you — 
Charm.  And  you,  too,  Stasimus. 


Stas. 
Charm. 


50 


That  you're  safe — 
{interrupting)  I  know  what  you  would  say,  and  do  believe  you. 


Explanations  follow  as  to  Charmides'  family  and  the  position  of  his  affairs ; 
and  Stasimus  insinuates  his  unfavourable  view  of  Callicles'  personal 
motives  in  his  discharge  of  the  trust  committed  to  him.  The  entrance  of 
Callicles  at  this  point  soon  clears  up  this  misunderstanding,  though  Stasi- 
mus maintains  his  unfavourable  opinion  to  the  last. 


The  last  Act  is  filled  up  by  the  meeting  between  Charmides  and  all  the 
various  personages  of  the  story,  together  with  the  clearing  up  of  all  that  is 
obscure.  The  merchant  confirms  the  betrothal  of  his  daughter  to  Lysiteles, 
and  provides  an  ample  dowry  for  her,  notwithstanding  the  lover's  protest ; 
if  he  likes  the  maiden,  he  must  like  the  portion  too. 

Lesbonictts  has  to  bear  only  gentle  reproaches  from  his  father,  and  Callicles 
promises  him  his  daughter  in  marriage  if  he  will  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  Les- 
bonicus  declares  he  will  take  her,  and,  he  adds,  anyone  else  his  father  wishes. 

Charm.  Angry  though  I  be  with  you. 

One  man,  one  woe,  is  the  quota. 
Callicles.  Nay,  too  little  in  this  case  : 

Since  for  such  a  hardened  sinner  twenty  wives  were  not  too  much. 
Lesbonicus  promises  amendment,  and  all  ends  happily. 


XTbe  Tllnfversitis  ot  CJbfcago 

THE  UNIVERSITY  EXTENSION 

THE  LECTURE -STUDY  DEPARTMENT 


No.  39,  Part  I. 


ANCIENT  COMEDY  FOR 
ENGLISH  AUDIENCES, 


v 


SYLLABUS  OF  A 
COURSE  OF  SIX 
LECTURE-STUDIES 


BY  RICHARD  G.  MOULTON,  A.M.  (CANTAB.),  PH.D.  (PENN.) 


»%» 


PROFESSOR  OF  LITERATURE  (IN  ENGLISH) 


CHICAGO 

iTbe  inniverdltis  ot  Cbicaao  pre00 

1900 


EXERCISES 


\ 


Topics  for  exercises  are  given  at  the  end  of  the  outline  of  each  lecture.  Answers 
in  writing,  to  not  more  than  two  questions  each  week,  are  invited  from  all  persons 
attending  the  lecture.  These  should  be  written  on  one  side  of  the  paper  only,  a 
broad  margin  being  reserved  on  the  left.  The  name  of  the  centre,  with  some 
signature  of  the  writer,  should  stand  at  the  top  of  the  first  page.  The  exercises 
should  be  sent  to  Richard  G.  Moulton,  A.  M.  Ph.  D.,  The  University  of  Chicago,  Chi- 
cago, so  as  to  arrive  at  least  two  days  before  the  following  lecture.  They  will  be  re- 
turned at  the  Review,  the  following  week,  with  such  marginal  and  oral  comments  as 
they  seem  to  require.  If  application  is  made  to  the  lecturer,  there  will  be  an  Exam- 
ination at  the  end  of  the  course  for  students  who  are  qualified  and  desire  to  take  it. 

Any  of  the  books  referred  to  in  these  lectures  may  be  obtamed  at  special  rates 
from  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  Chicago,  111.  Prices  will  be  quoted  on 
application. 


UNIVERSITY  CREDIT  7OR  LECTURE-STUDY    COURSES 

Readings  in  connection  with  each  lecture  are  designated  in  the  syllabus.  The 
syllabus  is  provided  with  a  perforated  leaf  upon  which  each  student  doing  the  full 
amount  of  assigned  reading,  or  in  addition  to  the  reading,  rendering  to  the  lecturer 
the  full  number  of  written  papers,  is  invited  to  record  that  fact.  This  leaf  may  be 
sent  by  the  student  to  the  lecturer  who  will  certify  to  it  by  his  signature,  and  will 
add  such  comments  as  he  thinks  appropriate.  The  leaf  will  then  be  returned  by 
the  lecturer  to  the  student. 

Applicants  for  University  standing  in  any  department  must  satisfactorily  con 
form  to  the  requirements  laid  down  by  the  University  in   reference  to  entrance 
examinations. 

Passing  satisfactorily  an  examination  upon  a  course  of  twelve  lecture-studies 
entitles  a  student,  under  the  conditions  of  the  foregoing  paragraph,  to  the  privilege 
of  presenting  himself  at  the  University  for  the  University  examination  upon  that 
subject,  if  application  be  made  within  twelve  months  of  the  termination  of  the 
course.  The  terms  of  examination  for  University  Credit  upon  University  Extension 
lecture-studies  are  as  follows: 

Any  student  who  has  attended  a  twelve-lecture  study  course,  satisfied  the  lec- 
turer in  the  amount  of  assigned  reading,  rendered  the  required  number  of  written 
papers,  and  satisfactorily  passed  the  examination  set  by  the  lecturer  may,  upon  pre- 
senting the  weekly  and  examination  papers  to  the  University  Examiner,  paying  the 
usual  examination  and  matriculation  fees  and  passing  a  satisfactory  examination  at 
the  University,  receive  credit  in  the  University  for  a  Minor  in  the  subject  upon 
which  the  course  has  been  given.  This  credit  will  depend  upon  the  character  of 
the  paper  work  as  well  as  upon  that  of  the  examination. 

Non-resident  students  may  not  offer  for  the  Bachelor's  degree  more  than  one- 
half  of  the  work  required  for  that  degree.  They  may  not  offer  for  the  degrees  of 
B.D.  or  Ph.D.  more  than  one-third  of  the  work  required  for  those  degrees.  In  everj' 
case  examination  upon  the  work  must  be  passed  at  the  University,  or  at  one  of  the 
regular  examinations  conducted  by  the  University. 

In  the  case  of  advanced  subjects,  the  examinations  for  entrance  to  the  Univer- 
sity shall  have  been  passed,  and  also  such  examinations  in  preliminary  subjects  as 
may  be  required  for  the  subject  offered.  Students  presenting  themselves  for  these 
examinations  must  attain  the  grades  required  in  all  the  regular  examinations  of  the 
University, 


ANCIENT  COMEDY  FOR  ENGLISH  AUDIENCES 

This  is  a  course  of  recitals  and  lectures  intended  to  intro- 
duce popular  audiences  to  the  general  character  of  Ancient 
Classical  Comedy,  and  its  influence  on  the  Romantic  Drama 
of  Shakespeare's  age. 

1.  The  Clouds:  A  Burlesque  on  Socrates  and  the  New 
Education. 

2.  The  Origin  of  Greek  Comedy. 

3.  The  Birds:  A  Burlesque  on  Speculative  Enterprise. 

4.  Evolution  of  Greek  into  Roman  Comedy. 

5.  The  Trinummus :  or  Two-Pound-Ten. 

6.  Evolution  of  Ancient  into  Modern  Drama. 

Reading 

The  accompanying  Book  of  Illustrations  is  all  the  reading 
recommended  for  the  course,  though  other  books  may  be 
mentioned  from  time  to  time. 


ANCIENT    COMEDY    FOR    ENGLISH    AUDIENCES 


ORIGIN  OF  COMEDY  IN  ANCIENT  GREECE 

I.    In  ultimate  origin  Comedy,  like  Tragedy,  traces  back  to 
a  combination  between  two  offshoots  of  the  Ballad  Dance  : 

The  Comus,  or  Wandering  Dance,  used  in  the  festival 

worship  of  Dionysus  [compare  the  phallic  procession]. 
Satire  [compare  the  modern  Lampoon],  a  form  which 

rapidly  threw  off  the  influence  of  music  and  gesture, 

and  developed  the  *  iambic '  metre,  which  approaches 

prose. 
The  amalgamation  appears  as  *  Lyrical  Comedy,'  or  *  Iambic 
Dance.'  From  one  of  the  two  constituent  elements  came  satiric 
purpose ;  from  the  comus  (as  in  Tragedy)  came  the  creative 
force  which  makes  dramatisation.  Thus  Comedy  when  fully 
developed  could  serve  as  the  newspaper  of  antiquity,  com- 
bining the  functions  of  the  Satiric  Review,  and  the  Comic 
Paper  which  satirises  by  cartoons. 

[A  transition  stage  in  this  evolution  survives  in  a  scene  of  the 
Frogs f   in   which   a   comus-procession    halts    at    intervals    to. 
exchange  bouts  of  satire  with  passers-by.] 

2.  Greek  society  was  compounded  of  two  strata:  Aristo- 
cratic (Doric  influence)  and  Democratic  (Ionic  influence). 
Comedy  in  its  early  history  is  seen  fluctuating  under  these 
two  influences  : 

Where  Aristocratic  influence  prevails,  it  is  limited  to 
general  satire  or  class-caricature  —  especially,  Sicilian 
Comedy,  with  its  use  of  mythology  for  satiric  purpose 
[the  gods  are  men  writ  large]. 

Where  Democratic  influence  prevails,  there  is  free  hand- 
ling of  personalities  and  political  questions. 

3.  The  golden  age  of  Grecian  history,  the  leadership  of 
democratic  Athens  after  the  Persian  Wars  [about  450-400 
B.  C]  suddenly  raises  Comedy  into  world  literature. 


ANCIENT  COMEDY  FOR  ENGLISH  AUDIENCES 


OLD  ATTIC  COMEDY 

This  is  the  name  given  to  the  first  species  of  comedy  which 
secured  a  place  in  permanent  literature  —  under  the  influence 
of  Athenian  democratic  spirit  —  and  by  the  individual  genius 
of  Aristophanes. 

1.  Matter   and    Spirit.      Unlimited    license — as    regards 

decency,  current  politics,  personalities,  sacred  topics. 

[Of  the  eleven  plays  of  Aristophanes  four  are  manifestos  of  the 
peace  party:  Acharnians^  Knights^  Peace^  Lynstrata  —  five 
deal  with  social  and  religious  topics :  Clouds  (rationalism), 
Wasps  (the  forensic  craze),  Birds  (speculations),  Women  in 
Parliament  and  Plutus  (socialist  theories)  —  two  are  satires  on 
the  poet  laureate  of  the  popular  party  :  Mysteries^  Frogsi\ 

2.  Form :     Natural    development    disturbed   by    imitation 

of  the  form  of  Tragedy,  in  order  to  secure  equal  rights 
of  public  production.  [Compare  Aristotle's  words : 
"  It  was  late  before  Comedy  obtained  a  chorus  from 
the  magistrate."] 

Structure  of  Old  Attic  Comedy 

The  dramatic  structure  of  Old  Attic  Comedy  is  thus  that  of 
Tragedy  slightly  modified. 

1.  Prologue:  dramatic  scene  preceding  the  appearance  of 

the  Chorus. 

2.  Parode  or  Chorus-Entry :  usually  seized  upon  for  special 

masque  or  pantomime  effects. 

3.  i\n  alternation  of  Choral  Odes  and  Episodes  to  any  num- 

ber of  each.  The  episodes  (as  in  Tragedy)  may  include 
Forensic  Contest,  Messenger's  Speech,  and  Rheses. 

4.  One  (or  more)  of  the  Choral  Interacts  is  usually  given  up 

to  what  is  a  special  distinguishing  feature  of  Old  Attic 
Comedy,  the  Parabasis  (or  Digression),  in  which  the 
Chorus  faced  the  audience  and  spoke  for  the  author 
as  fn  a  modern  Preface. 

The  Parabasis  has  a  structure  of  its  own.  i.  The  Introduction 
[kommationy.  a  few  short  lines,  bespeaking  attention.  —  2. 
Parabasis  Proper  (usually  in  anapaests) :  characterisation  of 
Chorus  dropped,  they  speak  directly  for  the  poet.  —  3.  Strophe 


ANCIENT    COMEDY    FOR    ENGLISH    AUDIENCES 


ANCIENT    COMEDY    FOR    ENGLISH    AUDIENCES 


and  Antistrophe  of  dance  and  song,  as  a  break,  before  and 
after  the  After-speech.  — 4.  After-speech  [epirrhema]  and  After- 
response  [ant-epirrhema]  in  accelerated  rhythm,  dealing  with 
some  serious  political  topic :  the  characterisation  of  the  Chorus 
usually  resumed. 

5.    The  Exodus  or  Finale:  the  dramatic  scene  following  the 
last  Choral  break. 

The  metrical  structure  of  Ancient  Comedy  is  very  rich  — 
variation  between  one  metrical  style  and  another  is  always  a 
source  of  effect. 

Six  metrical  styles  may  be  noted.  — i.  Blank  Verse  {iambic 
senarius:  very  close  to  English  blank  verse).— 2.  Lyrics;  the 
regular  medium  for  Choral  Odes  (rapid  variation,  usually 
strophic  arrangement,  dancing  and  musical  accompaniment 
implied).— 3.  Accelerated  Rhythm  (trochaics,  long  lines).— ^. 
Anapoests  :  identified  with  Parabasis  Proper  and  Invocation  of 
Chorus  (usually  long  lines,  with  shorter  lines  for  climax).  — 5. 
Long  Iambics  {iambic  tetrameter] :  this  and  No.  4  regularly 
used  for  Forensic  Contests,  with  a  tendency  to  reserve  No.  5 
for  the  bad  side.  —  6.  Epic  Rhythm  {hexameter] :  rarely  used, 
for  oracles,  etc. 

FURTHER    DEVELOPMENT   OF   ANCIENT  COMEDY 
Owing  to  its  abnormal   origin   Greek   Comedy  tended  to 
develop  with  great  rapidity;    the.  force  of  natural  evolution 
being  assisted  by  two  other  forces  : 

(a)  The  unstable  equilibrium  of  elements  in  Old  Attic  Com- 
edy, from  its  combination  of  tragic  form  with  comic 
matter — Tragedy  itself  being,  in  form,  an  unstable  com- 
bination of  drama  and  lyric. 
(fi)  The  passage  from  Greek  to  Roman :  the  Roman  comic 
poets  neither  followed  nor  rejected  Greek  models,  but 
used  freely  actual  Greek  comedies,  which  they  altered, 
modified,  combined,  at  will. 

The  evolution  of  Comedy  seems  even  more  rapid  than  it 
actually  was  owing  to  the  loss  of  plays  illustrating  intermediate 
stages  —  ancient  historians  recognized: 

Old  Attic  Comedy  [450-400   13.  C]  :    all   but  plays  of 
Aristophanes  lost. 


' 


2. 


Middle  Attic  Comedy  [400  B.  C.  to  350] :  all  lost. 
New  Attic  Comedy  [350  B.  C.  to  291]  :    all  lost  except 
so  far  as  it  is  preserved  in  the  Roman  adaptations. 
[Chief  name,  Menander]. 
Roman  Comedy  is  preserved  in  the  works  of  Plautus 
[died  184  B.  C]  and  Terence  [died  159  B.  C.]. 
Evolution  in  Matter. 

Old  Attic   Comedy   seems   to  pass   through   the   stages  : 
Party  politics — Literary  party  rivalry  —  Purely  general 
or  social  satire. 
In  Roman  Comedy  the  dramatic  purpose  [chiefly  love]  has 
become  the  main  motive,  and  satire  in  the  form  of  class- 
caricature  [slaves,  schemers,  parasites,  etc.]  gravitates  to 
the  underplot. 
Loss  of  specific  distinctiveness  [reversion  to  type]  as  Cho- 
ral Comedy.     The  Chorus  in  Comedy  was  highly  unstable, 
a  foreign   element   introduced   for  non-literary   reasons: 
even  within  the  plays  of  Aristophanes  it  is  seen  developing 
in  two  opposite  directions : 

(a)  On  the  one  hand  the  Chorus  becomes  more  and  more 
lyrical,  losing  connection  with  the  plot,  and  approach- 
ing to  the  character  of  an  entre-acte.  [Compare  PluiusJ] 
In  Roman  Comedy  it  had  fallen  out,  its  place  supplied 
by  music.  Comedy  has  thus  reached  its  modern  struc- 
ture :  successive  '  Acts '  separated  by  intervals. 

{h)  On  the  other  hand  the  Chorus  increases  its  dramatic 
function  and  passes  into  the  plot.  [Compare  the  multi- 
plication of  Choruses  in  the  LysistrataJ] 

Development  in  Plot.  The  conception  of  plot  in  Old 
Attic  Comedy  was  unique :  (i)  The  origination  and  devel- 
opment of  an  Extravagant  Fancy  as  a  medium  for  satire. 
(2)  But  with  this  went  the  prominence  of  Incidental 
effects  [tours-de-force  of  irrelevance  or  wit],  making  an 
aggregate  of  interest  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  plot  itself. 
In  Roman  Comedy  we  find  : 


8 


ANCIENT  COMEDY  FOR  ENGLISH  AUDIENCES 


ANCIENT  COMEDY  FOR  ENGLISH  AUDIENCES 


(a)  The  Extravagance  has  gradually  changed  into  Proba- 
bility [Complication  and  Resolution]. 

(d)  But  the  Incidental  effects  have  unified  and  developed 
into  a  regular  Underplot  [Farce,  Caricature,  etc.]. 

The  general  form  of  plot  in  Roman  Comedy  is  thus  :  An 
Opening  Situation  of  Complication  is  developed  to  a  Resolu- 
tion. [In  multiplication  of  actions  (main  and  inferior)  a 
Roman  Comedy  is  as  complex  as  an  Elizabethan  drama  :  but 
the  unities  of  time  and  place  are  rigidly  maintained.] 

THE  RELATIONS  BETWEEN  ANCIENT  AND  MOD- 
ERN DRAMA 

1.  The  whole  of  the  Ancient  Drama  may  be  regarded  as  a 
single  piece  of  unbroken  development.  Tragedy  had 
been  the  first  to  rise  into  elaborateness  of  literary  form : 
its  progress  beyond  Euripides  was  arrested,  but  meanwhile 
its  form  had,  under  exceptional  circumstances,  been  taken 
over  by  Comedy,  and  this  underwent  continuous  develop- 
ment up  to  the  point  of  Roman  (New  Attic)  Comedy.  In 
this  form : 

(a)  Ancient  Drama  anticipated  two  main  characteristics  of 
Modern  Drama:  distinction  of  passion-plot  and  action- 
plot,  and  multiplication  of  stories. 

(d)  On  the  other  hand  it  had  certain  strict  limitations  : 
separation  of  Tragedy  and  Comedy  —  confinement  to 
heroic  myths  in  the  former  and  a  very  narrow  area  of 
life  in  the  latter — especially:  the  mere  representation 
of  the  crisis  of  a  story,  involved  in  the  unities  of  time 
and  place. 

2.  The  *  Dark  Ages*  succeed:  with  the  almost  total  extinc- 
tion of  reading.  In  the  ten  centuries  or  more  the  place  of 
Drama  to  the  non-reading  classes  is  taken  by  Story  —  the 
wandering  class  of  jugglers,  minstrels,  trouv^res,  etc.,  pur- 
vey to  the  people  fiction  in  narrated  prose  or  verse.  [Note 
the  change  in  the  meaning  of  *  tragedy'  and  *  comedy.*] 


li 


At  the  close  of  the  Dark  Ages  this  mass  of  floating  stories 
comes  to  be  known  as  *  Romance,*  from  the  Romance 
languages  spoken  by  the  minstrels. 

3.  The  agency  for  bringing  together  this  Drama  of  the 
Ancients  and  this  Story  of  the  Dark  Ages  was  provided  in 
the  Old  English  Mysteries  and  Miracle  Plays,  which  from 
the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  centuries  served  in  the  place  of 
sermons,  and  had  for  their  purpose  the  application  of  dra- 
matic form  to  {Scripture)  Story.  [Not  only  would  they  act 
the  incident  proper  to  a  Saint's  Day  independently  of 
changes  of  scene  and  place,  but  the  scenes  gradually  grew 
into  the  Collective  Miracle  Play,  which  in  a  succession  of 
scenes  put  the  history  of  the  world  from  the  Creation  to 
the  Day  of  Judgment.  The  effort  after  realism  gave  plenty 
of  scope  for  the  *  mixture  of  tones.'] 

4.  Then  came  the  *  Renaissance '  of  Classical  Literature,  reach- 
ing England  fully  in  the  Elizabethan  period,  and  bringing 
all  three  elements  together. 

{a)  Elizabethan  Dramatists  were  mostly  university  and  pub- 
lic school  men,  trained  in  the  Ancient  Drama. 

{b)  They  took  their  materials  from  the  story-books  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  their  main  purpose  was  to  dramatize 
the  story. 

(c)  They  played  to  audiences  trained  in  the  Mediaeval 
English  Drama  of  Miracles,  Moralities,  etc. 

Hence  the  *  Romantic  Drama,*  which  applies  the  dra- 
matic strictness  of  Ancient  Classical  literature  to  Mediae- 
val Romance.     As  a  result  of  this  union  : 

(a)  From  the  Ancient  Drama  the  Romantic  derived  strict 
conceptions  of  plot,  deep  character  interest,  and  high 
literary  elaborateness. 

(b)  The  other  ancestor.  Story,  broke  down  the  classical  uni- 
ties of  time  and  place,  and  caused  the  whole  story  to  be 
acted,  and  not  merely  its  crisis.  [The  multiplication 
of  stories,  substituting  harmony  of  actions  for  unity  of 


10  ANCIENT    COMEDY    FOR    ENGLISH    AUDIENCES 


action,  had  already  been  anticipated   by  the   Roman 
Comedy.] 

(c)  The  influence  of  the  Popular  English  Drama  (Miracles, 
Mysteries,  and  Moralities),  which  brought  the  two  ele- 
ments of  Drama  and  Story  together,  secured  forever 
the  mixture  of  tones,  serious  and  comic,  which  was  the 
main  outcome  of  its  realism. 

Romantic  Drama  having  thus  been  naturally  developed,  the 
individual  genius  of  Shakespeare  and  his  contemporaries 
solidified  its  literary  qualities,  and  fixed  it  as  one  of  the  lead- 
ing species  of  the  Universal  Drama. 

TOPICS  FOR  EXERCISES  OR  DISCUSSION 

I 

1.  Describe  Socrates,  as  he  was,  and  as  he  is  made  to  appear 
in  burlesque. 

2.  Dress  the  Chorus  of  Clouds  for  their  part. 

II 

1.  Show  how  Comedy  served  as  the  newspaper  of  antiquity. 

2.  Explain  the  word  comus. 

Ill 

1.  Give  example  of  the  ingenuity  with  which  Aristophanes 
adapts  bird  life  to  human  life. 

2.  Sketch  an  original  plot,  on  the  model  of  Old  Attic  Comedy, 
satirising  'expansion  '  or  *  anti-expansion  '  ideas. 

IV 

1.  Show  how  the  Lysistrata  and  Plutus  are  interesting  in  the 
history  of  Comedy. 

2.  Discuss  the  arguments  of  Poverty  in  the  play. 

V 

1.  Describe  the  chief  characters  in  the  Trinummus. 

2.  Trace  the  plot  of  the  Trinummus  as  "  an  opening  Situation 
of  Complication  developed  to  a  Resolution." 


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